Missing
by SarahBendrix
Summary: Christine is lost after Raoul's death...
1. Chapter 1

_MISSING_

"_Maybe someday you'll have woke up, _

_And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one: _

_"Isn't something missing?" _

_You won't cry for my absence, I know - _

_You forgot me long ago. _

_Am I that unimportant...? _

_Am I so insignificant...? _

_Isn't something missing? _

_Isn't someone missing me?_

_Even though I'd be sacrificed, _

_You won't try for me, not now. _

_Though I'd die to know you love me, _

_I'm all alone._

_Isn't someone missing me?"_

CHAPTER 1

While she was running about the streets in the outskirts of Paris, Christine felt the vicious January wind brushing away the tears that were struggling to roll down her cheeks, turning them into little crystal ice cubes. Sorrow darkened even more the blackness of her eyes.

Where to go? God, after everything that had happened she was feeling once again like the little girl she had never stopped being. That lonely, frightened girl had always been there, inside her, looking for a safety blanket, the protection of a father that was suddenly gone forever.

But now, oh now, the only pillar she had, the only person that had provided her with that safety and arms that could shelter her from her nightmares…they were now gone too. Why, for Heaven's sake, why had it had to happen again…so soon? They had only been married for 10 months…only 10 months…

She was not certain of why she was doing what she was doing or why she had started running aimslessly in the middle of the funeral. She did not know, but it was what her soul had been crying for at that moment. Forgetting everything, embracing loneliness and sheltering from the world and the pain somewhere.

No, she could not return. 'Too risky? Or too many memories?' she questioned herself. Too many memories, yes…and now she had not only lost the person that had given her unconditional love, security and protection through all that time, but she had lost the only person that had represented her inspiration, her passion, her music… her great mentor.

Carriages were rolling along the deserted rues. Dark clouds announced rain. She did not mind what the attendants would think of a runaway widow like her, nor where she was going. Suddenly she had realized that the woman with the broken heart that lived within her had to overcome the childish part of herself, the image of the wandering and defenceless child she had always put on magnificently.

Trembling with cold, despite the fact that she was wearing some of her warmest clothes, she found what seemed a good place to shelter from the rain, at least for the night. She got inside quickly, without second thoughts, and tried to make herself as comfortable as possible in the incredibly small and dark room she had broken into. She sat down and curled up into a ball. Even though she couldn't bring herself to admit it, she had never felt the kind of terror that was paralysing her right then.

She took off the coat she was wearing and covered her whole body with it, trying to keep herself warm. She relaxed under the soft material and the relative heat it transmitted. She let herself close her eyes at last, little by little. Her perfect black curls were now untidy, tangled around her face, and her skin paler than ever.

Only three words merged from her mouth before she fell into the sweet release of unconsciousness.

'_Please, forgive me…'. _

During the night, different dreams crossed her mind. Most of them related to what had transpired the prior hours.

She remembered being in the streets in the middle of Paris, strolling hand in hand with the man who was her husband… Shots, people running away… They tried hiding wherever they could, but it was all in vain. They were cornered…attacked…She was the only survivor and the minor injuries she had suffered allowed her to escape.

The next thing she remembered was that one of her husband's closest servants and friends had informed her of the events that had taken place while she had been unconscious. There had been no time to heal him…he had bled to death…his life slowly leaving his body with every painful breath and no one had been able to do anything to save him.

Afterwards, haunting flashes of her past plagued her dreams… She saw the happy moments she had lived in the Opera House…she saw…Erik. She remembered the expression that danced in his face when she came back, only to give him back the ring. Hope. Yes, he had watched her anxiously, expecting to hear from her lips that she would stay with him. Then, she saw how that hope in his eyes turned into pain when she placed the ring in the palm of his hand. She had hurt him…She had caused him so much suffering … But was there any choice? What could she do now to make up for her mistakes? Erik was probably dead by now…somewhere. She would never be able to tell him how deeply sorry she was. The kiss…its passion…its tenderness…the happiness shining through his distorted features and the profound, heartbreaking sadness when he looked at her. Why was her subsconscious torturing her with fragments of her turbulent past? No…she did not want…to remember him. And yet, how could one ever want to erase the memory of the person who represented EVERYTHING in the world to her? Once more, the frightened child inside her was trying to flee from responsibility and guilt, even in her subsconcious…

A woman with a worn-out expression on her face and white streaks in her hair was watching her worriedly. ' Do you think she will get better? Poor girl... she must have been freezing out there last night …'

Those were the first words she heard when she woke up. Her eyes were lazily opening only to be forced to close again, as the harsh light of day that was streaming in through the curtains.

Another woman, younger but also tired-looking, looked at her carefully. 'She is waking up…' she whispered.

Christine blinked a few times and finally opened her eyes completely. She gasped, surprise and terror flooding her still foggy mind, as she looked straight at the two strangers in front of her. 'Who…who are you?', when her eyes got used to the light, she recoiled and struggled to cover herself with the thick, protective blankets. Suddenly, it dawned on her. 'Oh, God…I'm so sorry…I needed a place to stay for the night and I was exhausted and …'

'Hush, child. This horrible Revolution has only brought misfortune to our people…' she slowly sat by Christine. 'My name is Marie. Do not worry yourself with anything, you have come to the perfect place. Oh, where are my manners? You shall probably need a good warm bath and something to eat. Please, Emma, could you tell the others and prepare the toilette for the young lady?'

Christine smiled shyly, not very sure of what had just happened to her but it seemed that, for the time being, those two amiable ladies would provide accommodation for her…

However, it was her desperation and naïveté which did not let her mistrust that wonderful struck of luck…


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER II

He had seen her. Of course it had not been his intention to meet her again, not after having all his illusions and his heart shattered into pieces all of a sudden. But there she was. He had used the last ounce of strength inside him to escape the only home he had known, his creation, the place…the place where he had lived so many painfully sweet moments and of which only bitter memories remained.

He had spotted her running and crying, overcome by despair, heading for nowhere. A part of him wanted to make his presence known, come out from that hiding place and cradle her in his embrace. He wished to ask her the cause of the heart-rending grief which had brought her to the place that surely plagued her nightmares. No. She did not deserve his care. Not at all. What was more, he was unaware of what had come over her that caused her to leave the innocent angel he had once known broken and in such a distressed state. It was not new, though. He could recall other times when he had witnessed that same beautifully tormented expression craved on her perfect features. Indeed. Lost again? Searching for a guiding light to lead her through the darkness? His lips formed an ironic smirk. This time she alone would have to find her way out. After all, her last gesture had shown him that he was no more than a pitiful creature of darkness who could only inspire compassion to anyone. She had kissed him, but he would never know if there had ever been true affection - love, in that touch of lips. Whether it was plain pity or if it had been only a stupid but effective strategy to gain Raoul's freedom. Just thinking about the boy's name made his blood boil with fury.

But there was still something nagging at the back of his mind, an annoying sense of ignorance and curiosity because, despite his brilliance, he was certain that there was something missing in that tragic picture and he couldn't quite place what it was. Why wasn't she with him? Did she not get married to her dear Viscount? What was the reason why she was so emotionally lost? Had she lost her childhood sweetheart in the last revolts? Sincerely, if that was it, he was uninterested. Even though a part of him was struggling to go to her like an obedient mutt, his pride and common sense prevented him. He would not humble himself before her. Life had taught her well and, now she was in need of a friendly hand, he would not make it easier for her.

Erik's gaze scanned the street once more from the dark spot where he had been hiding for some time. His eyes narrowed when they met the tiny runaway figure again. Cold, full of restrained yet obvious rage froze the blue pools of swirling resentment until they turned into a shade of silver, as icy and rouge as the winter tide.

With a last glance in her direction, he turned his back on her and made his way towards his small refuge. He closed the door after him and carefully left the cloak which helped him conceal his mask on a wooden chair. He simply sat down at his bureau and opened a drawer. Inside, there were pages and pages of the music he had been able to save from the flames. He took them out and subjected himself to the agony of examining them and revisiting the past. Impeccable arias composed for his muse, a score especially written to be sung by her melodious voice alone, the voice he had trained with exigency, gentleness and devotion. The passionate background concertos of their miserable story… He covered his masked face with his still gloved hands. Now there were only non-sensical and mocking ditties that reminded him of a time of passion, a time of creativity and hope. Suddenly, drowned by the memories he had been trying to obliterate from his mind, he exploded. Erik threw all those sentimental keepsakes which he had been holding on to until that moment off the desk with a single sweep of his hand. Slowly, the sheets of parchment fell all over the carpeted floor. Erik wanted them out of his head but how?

'Curse you…' he cried out, as his fist landed with a sharp thump on the remaining pages of the libretto. 'Curse you, Christine!'

Christine was looking timidly at the details in the interior of the small residence. It seemed agelong and quite simple. First, she was shown the main hall: it was spacious but there was only a wardrobe where, she guessed, guests and residents alike could keep their coats and cloaks. Next to it, a small settee completed the short list of furniture at the entrance. The rest of the house did not look much luxurious, really, but at least it was a place where she could stay for a while and focus on her life. And that was what she needed at the moment. Solitude and peace.

The kind ladies that had fortunately found her that morning continued giving her the tour of the house, showing her all the rooms, as they told her that, as her new home, she was allowed to roam at will wherever she liked. The neat lounge, the dining-room and, finally, she was granted the best room available. Marie kindly rested her bony hand on the girl's shoulder before opening the door to her new bedroom.

'I trust you will feel much confortable here than in our dark garden hut, Mademoiselle…'.

She smiled. 'It's Christine, Madame, Christine de…' she sighed inwardly and had the quick reflexes to correct herself, 'Christine Daaé.' It was not a good idea to keep using her husband's nobiliary title if she wanted not to be found and killed.

The other woman's lips curled into a brief smile when she listened to her reply. 'Good then, Mademoiselle Daaé, I believe Emma should have prepared your bath by now. Oh, obviously you haven't had the time to bring your belongings with you…'

'Do not worry,' said Christine with a bitter grimace, 'I will take care of that tomorrow. Now I would need some rest, if you don't mind…'

Marie did not insist and nodded sympathetically as she closed the door and left Christine alone at last. A deep sigh escaped her pink lips. She sat at the foot of the bed and look around her…the room, like the bed, was small but cosy. She found that her only comfort at the moment was that she had had the good fortune to find a place where she could take shelter. Light entered through a large window which looked out to the garden and in front of the bed there was a small closet and a mirror. The girl got up and walked towards it. She looked exhausted, dark bags under her puffy eyes, hair dishevelled and dirty… In spite of the fact that the appearance of her poor reflection would have worried anyone greatly, she couldn't help that her lips formed a dreamy smile when she remembered how much suffering, mystery and reward had made such a vain object have such meaning to her. She closed her eyes and could still perfectly hear his harmonic, entrancing and yet disturbing voice coming through the cool surface of the mirror like an echo from the past. Intoxicatingly sweet, coaxing… encouraging… annoyed, demanding an explanation for her behaviour and her betrayal of his trust. She had given it to him but that had only been the beginning.

'Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me…'

She had spoken those words as if she had been carrying the deepest of grieves. In truth, she was… she had always been seized by cowardice because it was the easiest way out. Once more, she had succumbed to her weakness.

Her eyes blurred with that memory… her angel of music…her angel of music...

'How could I hurt you so…'

Once more, she spoke her regret to the wind, hoping it would take her message to him, somehow.

She reached the bathroom. Actually, they had left everything prepared for her bath: clean towels, soap, bath salts, warm water…

With some difficulty she took off her dress and her underwear. She watched now her naked reflection in the steamed up mirror. She was not the same person… not the girl with the dreamy eyes and innocent smile that she used to be 10 months before. Drops of moisture were beginning to form in her eyes as well.

With a sigh of resignation she got into the bathtub. She rarely enjoyed having a bath, as she did not find it too relaxing, but strangely she now felt some kind of contempt under the warm, placid sensation of the contact between the essenced water and her naked skin. Christine sat up in the bathtub, poured some bath salts and lay down again, closing her eyes in the process. She needed to reflect on the events that had changed the life she had hardly got time to get used to: her escapade, Raoul's death…Erik. His name was the one constant in her mind since she had left him and decided to start a new life with Raoul. She had abandoned him. And he died, leaving her, too, alone with her remorse and doubt. He was dead. Dead. The mere thought made had her shiver even though the water around her was lukewarm.

She had hurt him so badly that, even if he were alive, he would probably reject her, not even wanting to meet her eyes. Yes, her act of cowardice had broken the heart of the maestro who had taught her everything she knew about her art and more than she could have ever achieved by herself. She had scorned the man that had devoted himself to her in body, mind and soul without a second thought and she had never appreciated anything he had done for her. God, she had not even been able to give him a proper farewell or at least say goodbye in a way that didn't crushed the remains of his soul… Fly away, fly away to Raoul's safe embrace was all that mattered to her.

Guilt invaded her soul and drowned cries welled up from her throat. She hid her face in her hands and, curling herself in a fetal position, she wept. Christine de Chagny, née Daaé, released tears that seemed to her as old as time, tears she had been holding back for an eternity.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks very much everyone. Those reviews made me happy :) Now on with chapter 3 Enjoy!

* * *

'Angel of music, I denied you…turning from true beauty'

He opened his eyes. His head was laid on top of his desk. He had been working furiously so late into the night that sleep had finally taken complete possession of him. His exhausted body couldn't have resisted the brief moment of respite he was given and had unknowingly fallen into slumber.

His tired, bloodshot eyes had woken up weeping uncontrollably. The feeling of dread that usually accompanied his nightmares still lingered in his mind. He had dreamt of his childhood, or lack of it. He had dreamt of the time when he had been nothing but a caged freak in a gypsy fair, a circus attraction, a hideous mistake of nature. He had dreamt…of Christine's voice coming from afar. Anguish seemed to taint the crystal clear timbre he had grown to know so well. Was that crying he heard? Afterwards, Erik had dreamt one more night of the day she had left him… Why? Why was his subsconcious reliving that moment again and again? To torture and mock him even more? He wanted to forget her. Forever. He was fighting so hard to free himself from her memory. And yet, he still woke every day with tears in his eyes…

But that distant lament…it seemed so real… 'No!' he reprimanded himself. He had to maintain his distance from everything related to the woman who had broken his heart. If only to save him the pain he had let the flame of his passions consume and freeze with time and oblivion. Unfeelingness suited his purpose and had allowed him to survive under the shadow of her memory for a long time.

The first days without her had truly been a hell. Remembering Christine and incessantly trying to fathom the real reason why she had taken away his feelings and drowned them in the lake that surrounded his lair with her departure. Soon, he understood he could not afford to wallow in self-pity and longing forever. Erik knew all too well he would go insane if he did… Then he resurfaced and decided occupy his mind with several projects, most of them architectural designs. He loved architecture as much as he had worshipped the arts and music. Those were the only ones that would never betray nor hurt him, because they would always be there for him.

He stood up and, without delay, he prepared for the day. If he stayed locked inside his little refuge, he would not be able to contain the memories that were struggling to flood his head. And…God, anything but facing them again. Anything but her smile, her face, her voice…invading his thoughts. Erik took his cloak and his fedora, tilting it at an angle so that it shielded the masked side of his face, and left.

As he was elegantly descending the staircase, he encountered Maeghan, the woman in charge of that grimy poorhouse he had come to think of as his new home. The good woman, quiet and reserved, would have genuinely willed to offer shelter and help to all the poor, unfortunate souls who wandered the streets of Paris.

She had seen him several times…but he was quite a mysterious man, only showing the left side of his face. There was no doubt of it: her latest resident was the most remarkable one she had ever taken in...

'Bon matin, monsieur', she greeted kindly. 'Another hard day of work ahead, isn't it?'

Erik looked at her, a flicker of affection in his eyes. 'All days are hard, Madame.'

With these words, he saluted with a courteous nod and was gone. Yes, that was very odd. She had never seen someone with such an ability to vanish as if by magic.

* * *

Morning sunshine entered shamefully through the window, landing on the young woman's tresses. Peace was interrupted by the soft sound of the door opening. It had only been a few hours since sleep had taken pity and gently claimed her…

'Mademoiselle Daae…' said a voice softly, almost in a whisper. 'It's nearly midday and I thought it wise to wake you up before it was too late.'

Still half-asleep, Christine felt that her lids were heavy and did her best to pull them open. Her brown eyes, which were swollen and puffy, tempted her to keep them closed and fall into an endless, dreamless unconsciousness. Nevertheless, she was glad to find that the overwhelming pain burning in her chest had become less oppressive overnight, leaving only a void of emotion. She sat up in the bed and smiled. 'Yes…yes…all right. Thank you very much, Marie.'

'Oh, take all the time you need,' the woman said, gazing at her intently, concern clearly written in her features. 'Are you feeling all right?'

Suddenly, Christine's hand shot to her face to touch the moisture that was clinging to her pale cheeks. She had not even noticed she had been crying while dreaming.

'Oh, do not worry, I am… I am ok. I had bad dreams, that's all…' she tried to reassure her hostess.

'It must be quite natural after all you must have been through, chèrie…I'll wait for you in the restroom whenever you feel better, Mademoiselle.' Marie retired with a single bow of her head.

Christine got up. At first, she had to make a great effort. She had not been able to sleep well until well after midnight and every time she succumbed to exhaustion, a nightmare woke her up. Nightmares which were only visions of her actual fears.

_She found herself at the Opera Populaire, the place where she had always met with him for his music lessons. She called to him, desperately, crying, asking for forgiveness... She actually BEGGED him not to hate her. She told him that she had suffered enormously for his absence. She received no answers to her calls. When she was about to turn her back on hope, she found him. There he was, before her_. _But, God, how he had changed… His eyes…they were not the same. They were not looking straight into her soul like they used to. She was in front of a completely different person. His cold, blank, emotionless stare fixed on her. Yet, he looked as calm as she remembered._

'_Erik…', she tried to smile, refraining herself from throwing herself into his strong arms, imploring forgiveness once more…but his smooth voice distracted her before she could act on impulse. _

'_What are you doing here, Madame de Chagny?' The sound of those words had hit her like a solid ice cube. 'It is obvious that this is not precisely the place where your husband would wish to see you. And, sincerely, I can not understand what has brought you here…'_

_She just glared, not wanting to believe her ears. On the other side, she was not so surprised by that behaviour. She deserved it, yes, after what she had done to his poor, lonely heart… _

'_Please…' Christine whispered, fresh tears flowing freely from her eyes. 'Let me explain it…Raoul…he is…'_

_She could not finish her sentence. Erik had crushed both her arms with his strong hands and leant forward, until their faces were just inches apart so that she could clearly feel the waves of rage radiating from his towering form._

'_I do not mind!' he growled. 'Whatever happened to your precious Viscount de Chagny, however much you have cried for my absence or however much you want to apologize and come back… Apologizing after a year is pretty useless. Tell me, are those apologies worth any merit?' Erik increased the pressure on her arms, willingly bruising and hurting her, making Christine cry harder. He sighed and let go. 'Go away. Go now and never return again searching for me. You beg me not to hate you… well, ma chère, I'm afraid it is a bit too late to make that claim…'_

_When he finished his statement, her Erik retreated from her. Trembling, she looked at him one last time. He was already showing his back to her, he did not even stand the sight of her anymore. Christine burst into tears once more while she ran away from him. Rejected, rejected by her Angel… _

The dream had been extremely vivid and her tears had not subsided yet. She entered the bathroom, drying off her tears with her hands but the crudeness of his words still echoed through her clouded mind.

Meanwhile, life went on in the streets of Paris and in front of one of the most ancient buildings of the cité, a gentleman had just arrived in a carriage. Clad in elegant clothes, warm cloak and a dark fedora covering the right side of his face, the figure walked through the front doors. They were waiting for him and, fortunately, he had been punctual.


	4. chapter 4

Erik glanced at the façade, as the person he was waiting for exited the building. As usual, in a strictly professional way, he disliked leaving his place, but this seemed to be the best way to avoid those haunting memories. It might have seemed a simple thing to anyone but for him, emerging from his sanctuary to face the world and the society who had both ostracized and mistreated him so badly since he could remember, was extremely hard.

'Well, well, couldn't someone else come here for you today? I was expecting your courier. This is a most surprising change of attitude, Monsieur.'

The man who came to welcome him was in his forties, with dark hair and a warm expression.

Erik's lips curved into a nearly imperceptible one-sided smile. 'It was not my intention to come here personally, of course, but you told me it was an urgent matter…'

His interlocutor nodded. 'Indeed, it is urgent. Oh, please, let's go inside. We shall discuss this matter of ours in my private office…'

Once they came inside, they stopped in front of a door on which a metallic plaque read: 'Jacob Flaubert'. The door silently closed after them.

Christine shyly entered the dining-room. There was no one new, only the two kind ladies who had welcomed her so warmly: Marie and Emma. She was very grateful for their hospitality but, with every passing minute, she only wished to get out of there…and try to find him.

Breakfast time flied pretty quickly, while she tried to keep up with her hostesses' nonsensical chitchat. The pieces of personal information she dropped through the somehow forced conversation were neither particularly interesting nor endangering for herself, as she did not want to gain too much attention in a completely unknown and unsafe surrounding.

'You will feel quite comfortable here as times goes by', said Emma, smiling. 'It's all too normal that the first few days you feel restless, confused and a little bit lost but we'll be doing everything we can to help you'.

Christine smiled, as she finished her breakfast. 'You've been very kind to me… I don't know how I could repay you…'

"There is nothing to repay, dear. When you are well rested we will be introducing you to everyone so you can feel more integrated and at your ease. There are so many people you may like to meet around here…'

Christine folded her napkin and stood up, excusing herself. 'It has been a most pleasant conversation but, if you don't mind, I have some matters to attend to and I would not like to put them off any longer…'

Without even waiting to see the women's reaction, she left the dining-room. Christine went to her room, took a foulard and used it to cover her long curly hair and part of her neck and stopped to catch her breathe only when she found herself far from the residence.

A horse carriage passed her by, so she decided to stop it. After indicating the concrete address to the driver, she couldn't help the feeling of anticipation that caused the idea of coming back to the place that had been her home during many months. Christine pulled out her engagement ring out of the little pocket of her coat, remembering that she had worn it once hanging in a chain around her neck in the vain attempt to hide it from sharp eyes, to conceal the truth of her unannounced marriage from him. However, the thing she could remember more clearly of that night was precisely the shock of seeing him descending the stairs…his deep red costume…his dark, intimidating glare…

She could not stay there any longer. No, she did not think staying in that residence, closed in with her memories, was a good idea…

But, alas, flashes of her dream yet danced in her mind's eye. She closed her eyelids momentarily.

Yes, he should hate her. Her leaving was the last straw that revealed the painful truth he had been trying to deny. And the mere idea that she had caused him so much suffering pained her wholeheartedly, especially when she believed she deserved every bit of hatred she was choking on since that night.

She sighed and looked through the window. The overcast sky, the landscape and a small residence were the only things she had left. A gloomy expression fell over her features when she understood the meaning of that statement. Why? Why had she made such a mistaken choice? Why couldn't she see what she really had befote her eyes? At that moment, the only thing she prayed God was that he were alive. Just alive, because if he were dead, the best part of herself would have died with him.

Two cups of steaming coffee were lying on the table. Jacob was in front of the person who had offered his astonishing and artistic hands through the last copule of months. He had met him in a very peculiar way, he recalled, while observing him across the desk.

_One night, as he was getting home from his workplace, he found a man's figure, dark, tall and impeccably cloaked, watching the chapel before him. He looked like the kind of person he required…_

_He caught his attention. Perhaps, too directly._

'_Do you like it? It's really beautiful… I see you are interested in architecture. Maybe you would like to know…'_

_He did not have time to continue his persuasion tactics. A few minutes later, he felt a gloved hand tight around his neck, making it nearly impossible to breathe._

'_I do not speak with strangers like you. What is more, I try to avoid them at all costs,' he threatened. _

_Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, partly because of the tremors that were shaking him. 'I didn't mean to disturb you…' Words barely came out of his constricted throat. 'Monsieur, I promise…I simply thought you were interested in it and…if you don't harm me, I could explain it to you gladly'. He swallowed audibly, fearing for his life. _

_Erik seemed to consider the offer carefully and released him little by little. He did not trust people but that poor babbling man's words sounded sincere. _

_Jacob sighed in relief. Now he could see his aggressor clearly. He could have sworn that he was in front of a true gentleman, at least by the looks of his garments: black made-to-measure trousers that fitted his figure, an elegant shirt and a tailored waistcoat. The black coat and matched fedora enhanced the mysterious allure that emanated from him. He only noticed he had been impolitely staring his assaultant because the stranger himself was giving him a lop-sided grin and was glaring challengingly at him. It was definitely the smartest weird fellow he had ever seen. _

'_So…' his voice was deep, suave but demanding all the same. 'What was that explanation you were rambling about?' He fixed his attentive eyes on him, patiently waiting for his reply._

_Monsieur Flaubert looked at him in the kindest way he could. 'Well… Since you were watching so intently the façade, it looked like you had some special interest in architecture. Maybe you could help me. I need someone with your fascination for the art of designing and building… of course, if you esteem it possible and are not offended by my forwardness, Monsieur.'_

_And from that moment on, they started working together. From the solitude of his home, Erik designed the plans (each one more impressive and talented than the one before) and send them to him with Angie, a young maid who served him as his courier and the one in charge of keeping his house clean and tidy. For some strange reason, he did not like been seeing in public but this time he had accepted coming himself. Something really exceptional… _

Erik held his coffee, looking at Jacob, quite interested. 'I finished it a couple of nights ago and I've handed it on time, as usual.' He took a sip of his coffee and left the cup on the table. Calmly, he extracted the cardboard tube where he kept the plans from his coat.

Jacob opened it in concentration and examined the drawings with utter enthrallment. Erik felt the urge to roll his eyes at the sight of the ecstasic amazement in his colleague's face. While he waited for the spoken words of approval, he had a peek at the paper that rested on Flaubert's desk.

'The Vicomte de Chagny, one of France's most illustrious figures, was murdered two days ago by insurgents of the Commune…'

Erik froze in his seat. So, that was the reason why Christine had been running away…


	5. Chapter 5

"_So lost, so helpless..."_

She asked the driver to leave her by the main gates of the house which had been her home all through those months. As soon as she got down the carriage, it disappeared round the corner, waiting for Christine to finish the business which had brought her there.

Christine ran towards the back door. She wanted to be seen by no one and entered her former house trying to make as little noise as possible. However, it was useless because one of her servants crossed in her way. His eyes stared at her in surprise.

'Madame la Vicomtesse!' Christine pressed a finger to her lips urging him to keep the volume of his voice down. "Everyone has been looking for you since yesterday… Are you all right?"

François was more of a friend than a servant. The good boy had been very kind since the day she had stepped into that house. She was glad that at least it was him that was the one to find her there.

She nodded. 'I am okay,' she said in a low voice. '…but,' she made a pause, nearing him and leaning a hand on his shoulder, 'I need your help now as my friend, François.'

He looked at her with undisguised apprehension. 'Of course, just tell me…What can I do for you?'

'I only need you to assist me in taking my belongings out of here in the most discreet way possible.'

The boy came closer and lowered the tone of his words, too. 'So…you are leaving…'

Christine sighed. 'I am afraid I am. I've found a quiet, nice place far from here and the memories this house brings to me.'

François nodded, his expression sad but understanding. 'I see… Please, come with me. We should not stay around here too long if we don't want to attract the attention.'

After this, they both came through a narrow passage which they knew would led them to her chambers.

* * *

She had just finished cleaning and tidying up one of the rooms, what she had been doing for the last couple of months. Maeghan had kindly given her a job as a maid, taking care of the cleansing and running errands for her boss. Or Erik, but he preferred that she didn't address him by his given name. The reason? That was one of the many enigmas that surrounded him… 

Being there, she remembered the warning he had given her the first day she started working for him. 'You can use the house as you please but,' he pointed the door which led to a small room behind him, 'that room,' his voice sounded completely calmed and yet threatening. 'It will remain closed and unattended.' The dark man came nearer, his eyes burning into hers, echoing his message and stating the consequences of the disobedience of his rules. 'Is that clear, Angie?'

And now, in front of that forbidden door, leaving it closed as he had ordered, seemed impossible. Curiosity came over her…

What was inside which her mysterious boss kept hidden so carefully?

She looked around her, as if she tried to make sure that he was not in the flat and could not take her by surprise red-handed. Angie put her hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it…

The door closed behind him. He left his cloak and his fedora. Raoul dead…the little, coward and dearest Vicomte of Christine's. He saw clearly the reason of her flight, but, where was she leading? Obviously, she would return to the Opéra Populaire. To look for him, perhaps? How dared she… how dared she to come back after all? Did she think HE would be still there torturing himself with memories of her? Did she really believe he was so weak-minded?

His eyes filled with rage. If she had abandoned him for the Viscount it would have to be forever, not to try to come back to him in search of another guide. Turning on the last resort, Christine? No. He had more dignity than that, much more dignity than showing her the Hell she had put him through when she had left. A Hell where he had not been able to play or compose another piece of music. So his piano and violin, the only things he had saved from his past life, had fallen silent permanently. Because of her. Because of her damned memory. He admitted that, under the frost which had frozen his heart, there was still that inextinguishable love for her and he hated it. He hated the feeling. Why? Why did he have to love someone who had broken him apart?

A sound pulled him out of his musings. Ah, the girl. Yes, he tended to forget she was around most of the time, helping to keep his home from falling into total chaos. It was so often that he forgot her presence. In fact, many times he surprised himself when she appeared before him with a cup of coffee or something to eat. Her copper-coloured mane tied up in a bun, as if trying to conceal her natural rebellious and messy appearance.

She found herself before a whole world of strange objects, faded with dust and yellowed with time. Her curious bright eyes observed every corner of that room. The thought that she was doing something highly and expressively forbidden was enough to make her pulse rate start to race anxiously.

Something caught her attention in the furthest corner of the room. She came nearer step by step and her mouth and eyes opened simultaneously in surprise. A beautiful music box decorated with the figure of a monkey, which looked like a masterful piece of art to her. Next to it, there were many portraits of a lovely young girl and loads of scores…

It was then that she regained her composure and sense of duty, realizing that she had no right to invade another person's privacy. But it was too late. A powerful hand enclosed her wrist.

'Poking around where you shouldn't be, Angie?'. His words, slow and irate, sounded like a roar in the small room.


	6. Chapter 6

First of all: Thanks everyone for the nice reviews! You're all so kind I really appreciate it Nade-Naberrie , that was one of the most beautiful reviews I've read :) It makes me happy .Kate Lorraine,you know I love sleep without dreams, so thanks for reading my story! Sstarnat, I see you review every chapter I write, thanks for being a supportive, active reader and reviewer

Lovephantom83

* * *

He shook her and, gripping her wrists with an iron force, pulled her harshly towards his body. 

'Didn't I tell you that this damned room would not be touched by any means?' This time, fury took over him.

Her eyes went wide open and her breathing became irregular. 'I…I'm sorry but I…'

He did not let her explain herself because he had already cornered her against the wall. His glance was fixed on hers.

'YOU ARE SORRY, YOU, prying little child, you have just done something I had CLEARLY warned you against,' his voice was now a fierce growl, which made Angie close her eyes. 'What were you trying to do?' His face was even closer- 'Hmmm?' Sharply, he lifted her face. 'Look at me when I'm talking to you, damned girl!'

She raised her chin and looked at him directly, without a blink. God, how much strength and power she had seen in that man, which she had considered completely harmless and quiet until that moment. Angie gulped and half a smile came over her lips…

'Good show. I'm…' She looked him from head to toe. '…really comfortable cornered on this wall, victim of your rage attack but…'- she pointed to the floor- 'I've got still chores to do in YOUR house before midnight…'.

Erik seemed confused for a moment. She had not cried… she had not weeped… God, she had not even made any move to free herself from his grasp? No, she had just answered that she was "really comfortable" with an insolent grin and a bold glare as if she dared to challenge him. That only made him angrier, as he tightened the hold he had on her and causing a surprised gasp to merge from her mouth.

'I'm glad you enjoy it, meddlesome child, because if you ever do anything similar or worse… believe me, this will be the lesser damage you will encounter in your way'- his voice rised up again- 'So I hope I won't have to repeat this again.'

She remained unmoving, just holding his gaze with a serious expression on her face and thick, restrained tension showing on her features. He pushed her aside violently, not even trying to behave civil to her. She had to bring herself on her feet without help.

'You better hurry with your chores before I regret it…'- his voice sounded calmed now. She still did not move but stared at him attentively, instead of obeying the dismissal-'Get out of my sight, now!'

Only then Angie abandoned the room immediately. Not a tear, not a shiver. No reaction.

Thoughtful, Erik came out of the room shortly afterwards. If she wanted to play, as the eighteen-year-old she was, she would have his game. She had just become the victim of his master plan.

* * *

Emma was sitting in one of the rooms in the company of her partner. 

'When has the little ingenue planned to arrive? I'm afraid we can't waste any more time with her…'

'As long as she comes back willingly… the rest is just a question of time. Patience…'.

Emma smiled to herself, as she placed a glass in its place.

After nearly an hour, Christine had finished unpacking her few belongings. Her dresses, some precious trifles from the manor… She looked around her with nostalgia. She was living in a…room which was large enough for her, a place where she could sleep, a roof to shelter her from the world. And the ties that bound her to her former house, that could have survived Raoul somehow and reminded her of the life she had carried before his death, were slowly vanishing. She felt withdrawn from everything and everyone.

She was almost ready when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

'Mademoiselle Daaé, we must speak to you.'

She turned around and nodded gently. Emma took her arm, a bit more vigorously than usual, and closed the door of her room.

Night had come over Paris. It had been a day in which he had fought once more with his true feelings. And, even though that continuous struggle left him exhausted, darkness brought him peace, inspiration and…safety. It had always done so.

Under the little gas lamp he had been working for hours on his designs. Working compulsively, avoiding thinking at all costs. For a moment he wanted to forget everything and focus on his designs, the only thing that was important in his life now. But that was completely impossible. He tried hard, a thousand times every day, but the result was always the same. Besides, the fact that he had a silly nosy girl at home did nothing to help his mood…

At the same time he was glad that she had committed such a disobedience. He still had her glare in his mind. Determined, unblinking… Her words, her subtle insinuation troubled him but he knew she was unaware that she would be the perfect victim for the plans he had been outlining since the night Christine had abandoned him for Raoul. And now, she toyed with his feelings, expecting that he would have been awaiting her with open arms. No, he would give her a taste of her own medicine. He could already taste his vengeance, cold but sweet at the same time.

But he missed his music. He missed the time he had spent next to her, teaching and watching how the most wonderful sounds sprung from her gifted throat under his careful tutoring. Her heavenly voice entwined with his in that musical ecstasy that came alive when they both started singing. It was a glorious show in which they were the only players and the only witnesses. Ah, why did magnificent things such as that feeling escape his hands so fast?

He looked at his violin. He had not played neither it nor the piano since that day. The day his subconscious tortured him with painful flashes every so often.

Erik stood up from his desk and took the violin. He denied loving her or at least he tried but he loved music, that was unquestionable. Music had been the only corresponding love in his life and he could not betray it.

He treated the instrument with gentle adoration and sat in a confortable sofa next to his desk. The fire had been lit for a long time. He started to play a beautiful, haunting, nostalgic melody with all his feeling. He closed his eyes, letting every note to enter every pore of his skin. A lonely tear rolled down his cheek…for the first time in a long time.

The girl had retired from his presence since the incident but when she listened to that magical sound, she came nearer. She stopped by the threshold of his drawing room, watching him intently. Eyes closed, his half-mask shinning in the firelight, his hands caressing the violin and creating with that passionate gesture that divine melody. In fact, that was the most beautiful scene she had ever had the pleasure to witness in her whole life, and if it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object, she could have sworn that she was that very moment.

She decided to retreat to the solitude of her room when she felt that her presence had been noticed at last.

The room was small. A little round table in the centre and three armchairs surrounded it, each of them occupied by Emma, Marie and Christine.

'Dear,' Marie begun, 'We are very happy that you finally decided to settle in.'

She nodded, a bit tremulous.

'It's the only place I have to live in now, Madame. I made the choice, unconsciously…'

'So did you,' intervened Emma, 'but you must realize that this is not just a house. This is a residence, which implies a series of responsibilities from your part.'

She frowned. 'Responsibilities?'

Marie laughed, not in a friendly way, but in a sinister and ironic tone. 'Of course, did you think that you could use our home as if it were your personal apartment? Whoever stays here must attain to our rules…'

Christine fixed her eyes on the table and nodded again. The sound of those words made her realize something: she had willingly entered Hell itself.


	7. chapter 7

The sun was rising and everything was waking up from the little window of her miserable apartment. Her little and perhaps unhealthily thin body was still laying lazily on her bed. Her eyes opened slowly…

She stretched her arms over her head, her copper-red hair was messy and spread all over the pillow. She looked outside, with an air of sadness. That had been her home through those years. She had lived in uninhabitable hiding places, getting food wherever she could, gaining some people's trust… but that is not easy when you are only ten years old and have been practically forced to live in the streets. The reason? Too many mouths to feed, so she, being the eldest, was left outside all by herself.

She had been the apple of her mother's eye, the centre of her friends' attraction… but that all changed so soon. She went from living the life of a lovely, normal, healthy child, to the living in the streets. The body which had been rounded at the age of ten and the soft nacred skin had turned skinny, deadly pale, with no womanly curves.

Working days seemed eternal to her. All day going here and there non-stopping, obeying her boss's orders that many times had her getting home with loads of bags. But to see him compensated. These thoughts carried her to the events of the prior night. He had used such strength, tension and anger to hold her so tight and so close to him. So close she could feel his breathing, the heat of his body, smell his fragrance, look into his eyes and analyze them carefully. She had never thought someone so dangerous could make her pulse flutter in such a way and make an answer like the one she had given him come from her lips.

A simple sentence had given away the inevitable attraction that had always drawn her to him. But the more she thought about it, the less she regretted it. Then, she had listened to his music, seen his fingers slowly and rhythmically caressing that violin. How she had wished to be touched in that way. No, she was just deceiving herself. How she had wished he had touched her in that way. Since the night before, her mind had started spinning and there were only thoughts of him and his music in her head.

She still remembered the day she had seen him for the first time. She had come into his house shyly… She did not know why but she felt intimidated by it and it was exciting at the same time. The little apartment was no great thing and it was in serious need of attention. Old furniture was covered by a thick layer of dust, as well as the silent piano and the fireplace, which was completely dirty for the lack of use.

'_He is the most special lodger we have ever had, so serve him well, dearest'._

That had been the only warning the woman who had taken her from the streets and their horror had given her before she entered the apartment and found him there, awaiting. His impeccable figure, imposing and inquisitive look searching hers made her feel like the most insignificant person on earth next to that tall, peculiar gentleman behind a mask. In fact, that was the first thing she noticed when they met, the beautiful white porcelain mask that covered half his face. Angie had tried to ask him about it in the middle of some of the few times they had talked to each other but he always avoided an answer.

Once she had washed and got dressed, she looked her image en in the mirror. Ah, it was practically impossible that he would look at her twice. He had possibly met hundreds of glorious women who had so much more to offer than her.

She rushed, as she was nearly late.

* * *

The sound of the door echoed through the room. Christine woke up with a start. A couple of seconds afterwards, Emma's voice came to her ears. 

'Wake up! Housework won't do itself'.

She sat up in her bed, checking the time in the clock, as soft daylight came through the window. It was only six in the morning. Sighing, Christine got up, washed her face, and got ready to face the tasks which had been held out for her by the people who had taken her in… for good-willed reasons?

The first hour came and went by easily, as she had something for breakfast without the annoying presence of her hostesses, and she retired to read in the living-room, enjoying the quietness of the residence. It was the last book she had been reading and after the last events, she had had no time nor desire to keep up the reading until she found that brief moment of peace when the sun started its ascent in the sky and the soft breeze which entered the room through the window and slightly blowed the curtains.

She forgot the world for a moment, focusing in words, picturing each scene in her mind, each character… but a hand squeezing her shoulder forced her out of the refuge of reading at once.

'Dear, I thought we had stated clearly that you would be beginning to work here today, didn't we?'. Marie's frozen tone could be noticed easily.

'Yes…'. Christine turned slowly, fear filling her voice.

The book was taken roughly from her trembling hands and thrown to the furthest extreme of the room.

'You will not read another page until every single room in this residence is clean and tidy'. Marie glared, as Christine had never seen her before. 'Is it clear? This is not a hostel'.

With this, the woman gave a few long strides, kicked the book, which was still lying on the floor, and left.

She did not react. She simply stood still, unmoving, reflecting on how she had been insulted in the unkindest way right before her eyes. Her pale cheeks blushed with rage, and closing her hand in a fist, she went to the closet were she knew she would find everything she would need to start her working day.


	8. chapter 8

Hi all :)

Thanks everyone for your kind words and reviews! It makes me quite happy to know that everyone's enjoying my story. **Lazycat,**thank you:) Oh and I'm so sorry about the name, lol. You can use it in your story if you want to! I see no problem. Yes, I have almost 50 chapters up of the story in Spanish.

Enjoy chapter 8, and thanks for your kindness everyone

Lovephantom83

* * *

He watched the product of his last night of work with admiration. He had not slept, this was what used to happen to him when an inspiration attack invaded him. He could work during the whole night, without getting perturbed. It seemed like five minutes…but the reality indicated him clearly that it already had dawned. 

He put his work in a tube, leaving it over his desk. His small, curious and insolent messenger would arrive in any moment.

Perhaps she thought that what had been done was not going to have any consequences? Oh, of course that has had and is going to have them, much more of which can fit in his thoughts.

With this, he decided to go and get ready. The day was showing up very interesting.

_The Phantom of the opera! Yes, they say it's the most horrible person that someone can meet… Poor girl! So young… and facing that… monster! _

She had heard those comments so many times…and everything around the opera populaire, that "Phantom of the opera" and a…soprano; it was admirable how the people made the possible to maintain the city entertained with rumours.

Her place of work was closer, and a strange feeling invaded her body… now she didn't know what reactions to be expected from him… and even more after what had happened. Would he continue to punish her? Taking the last steps until arriving, she said to herself that it was best to not know the answer.

She went in, shyly, seeing that no one was there. Nothing had been moved, everything was in its place… only a small tube upon the writing-desk, which was supposed to be taken. She watched towards the armchair in which she had seen him play the violin, and a strange feeling of happiness invaded her, as she began to slightly hum the melody of that song that he had played. She went to the writing-desk, taking the tube that he left there and put it in a big bag that she used occasionally. She was going to leave when suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, which recognized immediately.

Her glance moved, slowly, until reaching his hand. -"Good morning, Monsieur… I… I… simply was going to take the things and to ask if you need something, I was leaving immediately "- without realizing it, her voice trembled. A new and inexplicable respect had arisen towards him

One weighs laughter, very slight, was heard. With his two hands he turned her to have her in front. It cost her to watch his eyes again; in fact, it was scary to watch the eyes... too much force in them.

" Yesterday you did not speak to me like that" - the average smile still stayed in his lips

Immediately she raised her glance to his, pardon was described in the small eyes of the girl "With respect of yesterday, I... want to apologize, I… I… didn't mean to…"

Surprising, she noticed his finger put in her lips. He retired it a few seconds later- "You are not the one that has to apologize… My temperament sometimes is too strong, I don't control what I do or say -by the surprised reaction of Angie, he knew that he was gaining it- Accept my excuses. And... I believe that the title of "Monsieur" is too formal for the months that you have been working for me. Erik is sufficient."

But, what did this mean? She had behaved like an intruder, she had entered his most intimate room, in which he kept his more appraised things... and nevertheless, nothing but kind words flew from his lips... What did this kind contradiction came for? Why was he treating her suddenly like a an authentic lady? She did not want to think, she limited herself to let it be.

Without a reaction, she agreeded.- O…kay- a small smile came from her lips- Erik… fine".

With this, she was going to turn around, but Erik stopped her, deposited a small note in her hand.

"Just some small orders, if you don't mind…"

She agreed, turning around again… she headed to the door. But his voice stopped her again before opening the door to leave.

"By the way…I'm glad that you liked the piece I played".

Her glance froze for a second. ¿Did he hear her?

* * *

The afternoon had come to an end. Christine left all the utensils. She entered her room. Tired. Frustrated… knowing that she came here voluntarily, to this hell. 

She leaned at the door breathing strongly. They had insulted her, they had made her clean until the last corner... and the only consolation that was in her mind, the only thing that had maintained her alert, alive, after the death of Raoul…was more and more distant. She watched her hands, now red, scratched and tired.

Why? Didn't he realize that she was screaming for help?

This made her enter a frustration state. She hit the wall with one of her hands, leaning her head too. She closed her eyes. She had to confront it. He was dead...he won't return.

What reason existed to keep standing there!

With a sad, drowned sigh, she stayed there…trying to assimilate that she wouldn't see him any more. And that she had never confessed him her true feelings.


	9. Chapter 9

The end of the day came at last. And all the stores, one by one, closed announcing that the time of resting approached. She felt confused and strangely happy. It was the attitude he had previously had with her what made her heart beat faster. On the other hand, that was an illusion that could be easily shattered

She looked around. People returning home, some of them with their couples, others carrying armful of bags from the market…and a mother holding hands with her daughter, who was laughing and just so happy eating some candy.

She remembered those days. When she was young and happy too, walking along the park with her parents

Everything had changed in a matter of years.

It was understandable that more members in the family implied more complications and responsibilities at home…but reality went further from that.

Being the eldest, she was the one that more things had to do and witness of their domestic problems. Amongst others, how her mother and father argued almost constantly. Soon afterwards, he was gone. She did not remember every detail, just images in her mind that were sufficiently revealing.

And that was the end of all the happiness she may have known during her childhood. From then on, the attitude of her mother towards her had changed completely. They barely spoke, many times when she came back from work she only had time for her four brothers…and not for her.

That afternoon, that horrible afternoon…

Her mother was terribly exhausted. She had just finished lunch for all of them. And she, a 10-year-old girl, only looked for a little conversation, some company.

Janine was sitting on the small chair of the lounge, reading. Ah, she'd always been so beautiful, in a natural, classic way. Her hair looked exactly the same as the one she had inherited, although she always took much care of it, her blue eyes focused on the reading.

She came near her. There were not many occasions in which they were alone in the silence of the house. Timidly, she leaned a hand on her shoulder.

'Angeline, not now please. Don't you see I'm resting?'

She frowned, taken aback by her answer. 'We hardly spend time together, mama, and I have something to ask you'

Sighing in resignation, she turned.

'What do you want to know?'

'Will dad come back some day?'

It had been, possibly, one of the most innocent questions she'd ever asked. But she didn't understand it. Janine looked at her in rage, slapping her on the cheek.

-'I have already told you NOT to name your father! Am I clear? You should help me instead of being here, lurking all over the house and asking meaningless questions. Go find a job; get your own money and maybe you'll do something useful'

She left the house weeping. But that was not what made her leave the hell that her house had become.

Her first job consisted simply of selling all kind of objects in a street-market. She used to arrive rather late, many times deliberately, just to avoid her.

One of those nights was perhaps the most impressive of her life; when she decided she would never, ever, return to that house. To that place that was no longer warm or worthy to call a home.

Although her working day has ended hours ago, she preferred to remain with some of the few people she had known. But anyway, at some point she would have to return…

So she did. She was unaware of what she was going to find once she crossed the door, though.

She entered, calling for her mother. As she didn't respond, she went upstairs to her bedroom.

What she saw then…She had never thought that…

The door was slightly opened and she could clearly see what was going on. Just enough to know that her mother was no longer the same woman

She was kissing a man. Chestnut hair, tall…and she could not see much more of him. Before the show continued in front of her eyes, she caught sight of a detail she would never forget: her mother was not wearing her wedding ring, but the one she supposed that man had given her.

Her eyes ignited with fury. She could not accept, she simply couldn't, that she had forgotten about him, and apparently about her too. Before she managed to see her, she left the house for never coming back. No notes, nothing.

That's how her life had been until that moment. A sigh full of sadness and longing escaped from her lips…the yearning of having a family and a proper, normal life. Seconds later Angie found herself in front of her working place again.

'Damned girl, I told you the dishes must be all in the same place'. Emma gave an almost murderous look to Christine

She sighed. She had learned to control her temper more than once. 'Very well, Madame'

The slap she received as an answer caught her off guard.

'And I hope everything's ready before 10. Your food will not be served otherwise. Is it clear?'

Christine closed her eyes. Things were going far, extremely far. She had to get away from this place, somehow. But those two devils she had as female leaders would not let her go anywhere. And whenever she needed to leave the residence it was always under their strict supervision.

At nightfall her head rested comfortably against the pillow but she couldn't get any sleep. Her body was aching for rest, but her mind kept wandering. She would even prefer to be in the great French Village, with Raoul, than being where she was now.

At least life there was peaceful…extremely peaceful. She loved Raoul, but his absences were more abundant than his days at home. It was all so…monotonous. With no colour, no life, no music…unlike her days at the opera.

The previous days to the wedding went by normally. He was adorably nervous with the upcoming event. He had been in charge of introducing her to his family during that time.

_'Oh, Raoul, my son, you're going to have a really beautiful, charming wife'._

That was the first impression of his mother…until that evening.

_She was in front of the mirror, fixing her hair before leaving to have a stroll along the garden. Françoise, her faithful servant, entered after she had given him permission to do so when hearing his respectful knock at her door._

_'My dear Viscountess, someone wants to see you'._

_She frowned, surprised by the unexpected visit. 'Who is it?'_

_He shrugged. 'She introduced herself as Mademoiselle Giry'_

_A smile lightened her face. 'Meg! Oh, please, let her in…let her in'_

_He obeyed and a few seconds later she entered the room._

_She was happy to see her best friend again, but saddened by what she'd have to tell her…_

_She looked at her, smiling. 'Christine! I'm so glad to see you'_

_Meg hugged her tight. It'd been a week since she last had seen her…since that night._

_'How's your new life? Does Raoul treat you well, she took a seat._

_'Raoul has always treated me well, Meg. I can't complain but…there are things I miss of my days at the opera'_

_At the very moment she said those words, her face paled. There had to be some way to tell her…she had to know it._

_'Christine…'_

_She focused her attention on her friend. 'Yes?'_

_'I..I've come to see you. Mama was really worried about you and Raoul after what happened but…', she sighed. 'There's something I need to tell you, it's about your tutor…'_

_She had named him. Her ears were listening carefully to every word. 'Please, Meg I beg you. Whether it's good or bad news …just tell me'._

_'All right'_

_Opening the little bag she was holding, she slowly showed her what was inside of it. His mask! God, this could not be happening. Her eyes began to feel watery._

_'I found this down there', she leaned a hand on her shoulder. 'Christine… he died victim of all the armed people. I couldn't stop them…I…'_

_Christine began to cry. She refused to believe what she had just said._

_'No…it can't be Meg, please tell me it's not true…', she was shaking uncontrollably._

_The only thing her best friend could do was to hug her. But she completely understood how she felt, for she had witnessed that kind of strange connection which had grown between them while they had sung wonderfully on the stage…with so much feeling, complicity and passion that she thought possible only of two people who knew and loved one another more than themselves._

_'I am very sorry. I know how hard this is for you. Do you want to keep this last memory of him?'._

_'No', she said, looking at the mask. 'That mask has always been a part of him, and I want it to remain this way. Besides neither Raoul nor his family will be pleased to know I have it. Go and leave it where you found it. Let him rest in peace…'. Those last words were broken by her sobs._

_Meg nodded, rising of the chair._

_'Please, if you need some help just let me know'._

_'I know, thank you Meg…for everything', she tried to smile._

_She left, looking at Christine one last time before Françoise came to lead her to the hall. When he was back she found her still crying heartbrokenly._

_'My lady, I don't want to sound indiscreet, if there's something I can do to make you feel better…maybe you should tell me what's making you so sad'._

_She looked up at him. Her brown eyes now irritated by the crying. 'Françoise, my dear friend…Haven't you felt some time that you've wasted the opportunity of your life and now there's no way to solve it?'_

He nodded, leaving her alone in the room. That night, at the heat of dawn, she tried to leave. She had to verify it, to see that he was really gone and to visit the place that had been his home one last time.

But the cold tone of the voice behind her stopped her intentions.

'Are you going somewhere, dearest?'

Yes, she had to accept her reality. Sighing, she lied back on her bed slowly giving in to sleep.

Angie left everything in his house. When she came back to her apartment she found a pile of wool she had not used yet and an idea crossed her mind. It had been a while since she last knitted something and that was one of the few things she had learned.

She spent an hour working on it, and she knew whom she was going to make this present to. He had been harsh to her, but the moment they shared before proved that he could be a perfect gentleman.

She was still knitting when she heard that familiar voice again

'I didn't know you knitted'

Angie rose of the seat, surprised. She hid it immediately, leaving it on the table.

'I wasn't expecting a visit'. She could feel the nervousness in her voice.

'I know, I hope not to be disturbing you…', he looked curiously at her hands. 'What are you working on?'.

She frowned. He was invading her privacy and she had to tell him about his gift?. 'Nothing!', she continued hiding it, a little bothered by his attitude. 'You practically burst into my apartment and you want me to tell you what it is when it is clearly not your business? This is my personal, private space!'.

Half smiling, he came near her, trying to see what was that which she was fighting so hard to keep away from him.

'I do not believe it to be something as important as to keep it hidden, hm?'. This time he was really close, holding the hand that was at her back.

She looked into his eyes. Was it possible not to be entranced, taken by them? No, and he knew it perfectly well. Angie moved her hands, briefly touching his, slowly showing the present, and not leaving for a second the nearness between them.

'It's…', she sighed in defeat, 'a gift. I wanted it to be a surprise, but…'.

For a second, he felt his heart moved by the girl's words. Erik looked at it thoroughly.

'That's coming off really well, Angie. But you should not have taken the trouble... Now go to rest. Tomorrow will be a hard day'.

She couldn't help it. Despite the small incident, he had treated her with such gentleness…and that, coming from the man she had always admired and questioned from a distance, meant a lot to her.

Angie smiled, shortening the little distance between their bodies. She was going to kiss him, and just when her lips were going to meet his, he separated his face slightly holding her hands so that she could only give him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

A small smile left his lips. 'You must sleep, dear ', he held her chin. 'I would not like to see those eyes tired tomorrow'.

She sighed, slowly going away from him. When she was going to turn her back, he held her hand leaving a smooth kiss on it.

'Have a nice rest'.

She looked at him, bewildered by his gesture. 'Thanks…'.

Erik slowly left the room and Angie's heart kept racing with lots of indefinable feelings…Was she falling in love?


	10. Chapter 10

The following days went by very peacefully. Morning light, once more, announced a new day. A strange warm breeze invaded the atmosphere, signalling that February was coming near and with it the spring season. His eyes opened slowly, gradually getting used to the light. Living in darkness for so long had made him quite sensitive to light. He got out of bed, his shirt creased and opened and dishevelled hair. Afterwards, as if it were a reflex action, he put his mask into place.

This time he had woken up later than usual. Once he managed to stand barefoot on the cold floor of the house, he walked towards the living-room. There was a beautiful scarf on the table. Sober and black. He came closer so that he could examine it better. The only distinctive mark was the embroidered 'E' which revealed the name of its owner. Ah, he still remembered that he had found her knitting it a couple of days before. Erik was surprised by Angie's attitude. Clearly, she had tried to kiss him… that gesture could only have two reasonable explanations: one, it meant that his plans were going smoothly, or the girl was going through what one might call teenage love and was trying to show gratitude to him. Perhaps she felt thankful that he had not been harsh with her after she had discovered all those objects he would have never wanted anyone to see. In any case, how dared she kiss him? The only person who had ventured to do so had been Christine… The memory of her kiss still burned so deeply that made him shut his eyes in pain, as he clutched the scarf furiously.

He glanced at it. It was truly beautiful and looked comfortable. But he could not waste any more time. He had completely forgotten he had more important matters to attend to that day. Without delay, he came again into his bedroom.

The evening was clear and the park shone in all its splendour. The trees were all stripped off their leaves because of the winter and the wind, which was now shaking them and blowing the dried leaves throughout the park. One would have been able to breathe in the tranquillity and listen to the voice of silence.

She closed he reyes. Her sweet face not hiding the delight she was taking in that precious moment of peace. A moment which brought so many memories at the same time. Memories of her days at the opera, of ballet lessons, performances and Christine. God, it had been months since they had last seen each other. And there was the fact that her mother and her had read the tragic news of the death of the Viscount, the husband of her best friend, which did nothing to improve the situation. One side of her wanted to get out and go looking for her, just to make sure that she was alright. However, they were living the hardest of times, so it really was not too wise trying to do anything so rash.

She continued her promenade, enjoying the marvellous sight that Nature was offering her that evening. That was when she saw…Him. Yes, he was far away from her and clearly tried to conceal his presence in the shade provided by the trees. She was completely sure of who he was even though she had barely had time to see him properly. It was something in his graceful gait, in his clothing…He was still alive. Her eyes went wide in alarm. Shoud she tell her mother? Was Christine in danger being him…alive?

Meg stood up and left the bench she had been sitting on in complete silence. Quickly, before he could catch a single glance of her, she retired.


	11. Chapter 11

'Monsieur, you do not know how pleased I am that you have decided to come…'

The young woman stared at the gentleman Jacob had sent to her to attend her commission. Her honey-coloured eyes were focused on him with utmost attention as she fixed a rebellious curl of hair which had escaped her long dark hair.

'It is my job, Mademoiselle Villete'. His eyes certainly had an enigmatic glow. Fortunately, they had not arranged to meet somewhere in public…

'Fiona, please. It seems we'll be engaged for some time with this affair, so I believe it would be aproppiate if you'd call me by my first name', she smiled.

Erik's eyebrow rised. If she thought she could develop some kind of intimacy with him, she would have to try harder than that.

'Of course…', he gave her a slight smile of his own. 'So, what is it you are exactly asking for?'.

* * *

A man waited sitting in the small bureau Emma and Marie shared. They had call him and he had an idea of what they might want to tell him. 

The door opened behind him. Chivalrously, he stood up. His dark eyes observed them expectantly while he passed a hand over his greying hair, trying to mend the damage caused by the wind on the way there.

'Mesdames?', he said unhurriedly. 'I think there's something you wished to tell me…'.

Emma looked at her partner, then to the gentleman they had before them.

'Yes, there is. I believe we've found her at last…'.

The man's lips curled into a half-smile

Xxx

Night was about to fall. There had been a couple of hours since he had given up working for that day. His wandering mind did not seem to focus on the designs but on her. He entered the room and sat down before the mirror. His mask looked beautiful and perfect with the glint of candlelight dancing on its surface but he knew perfectly well that it was only the shell that disguised what he really was…

Angie's gift… it had arisen again those feelings… God, why was he still missing her? It just was not fair. He could not allow it. He could not afford to suffer anymore, so he could not surrender to those feelings for her again.

He sighed, taking off his mask and casting it aside on a nearby table. He forced himself to look into the mirror. In the past, it had been his mother the first one to show him the kind of creature he really was. She had made him stand unmasked in front of his reflexion more than once in his childhood… and those had been the nicest gesture she had ever had with him.

Far from that, his mother had always been right, he thought as he observed himself in the mirror, tears in his eyes.

'Christine…', he said in a low but audible whisper, while more tears ran through his bare cheeks. Erik lowered his head…

He missed her, he missed her terribly, even though he did not want to admit it but it was only her presence what made it worth living for.

He fell in shock when, lifting up his head, his tear-filled gaze found a familiar presence watching from the bedroom door.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you everyone for your kind words. Here's chapter 12. Enjoy :)

* * *

Her gaze focused on his reflection on the mirror. His eyes were reddened, full of sadness and agony… God, what was it that was breaking his heart, or to be more accurate, who? 

But there was something else, something she had not noticed until that moment. He was unmasked. How could someone's face show such a complex duality? A duality which also lied in his own personality. There was his beautiful and gentle side, kind and romantic but then there was his darkest side, so enigmatic that she didn't know it yet. All of that was reflected on his face.

She observed him carefully, without concealing her amazement. Not because of the horror or the fear or the shock of what she was seeing but because he seemed so broken and exposing his darkest secret and the reason why he forced himself to wear a mask. He was completely disfigured; the skin that covered perfectly well his left side became a thin layer of parchment on his right. You could practically define his cheekbones but his nose seemed nonexistent on his ruined side. She discovered that even one of his eyes, which looked normal when he was keeping his mask on, was slightly damaged too. How much suffering did he have to cope with? A knot formed in her throat and his heart ached at the mere thought of that.

For a couple of seconds, their eyes met on the reflection. She was aware that she had interrupted a delicate and intimate moment, so she tried to leave. However, when she had led herself away from the threshold, she heard his voice calling.

'Angeline, come in and close the door behind you…'.

Her body was frozen when his command entered her brain. He had warned her… The last time he had threatened her…

She closed her eyes in anticipation when she listened his voice again.

'I believe I've told you to come…'.

She obeyed, coming in slowly and closing the door, just as he had asked her to do. She did not know if the fact that he was so calmed was a good or a bad sign in those circumstances.

'Nearer…'

Her breathing came in and out in short gasps. She was beginning to think that she was going to pay for what she had done, even though it had not been deliberate this time. Her steps were unsure and slower than before but eventually carried her trembling body to a point behind the chair he was sitting on. She was nearly leaning on the backrest when he startled her by trapping her hands brusquely.

'Well, you wanted an answer to the question of my mask, didn't you? Here you have it…in front of you!', he held her hands even tighter, eliciting a squeak of pain from her lips. 'And now tell me…what do you see? Look at it and tell me!'. The restrain and resignation he had showed previously vanished.

She stared, all of her muscles rigid with tension. Angie bit her lower lip because, for once in her life, she did not know what answer she should give…

'I see…', her voice grew confident little by little. She paused to take a deep breath. 'I see a broken, furious man…'.

Once more, she had given him an unexpected reply. He glanced at her through the mirror before rising and facing her.

An ironic guffaw escaped from his throat while he held both of her shoulders. 'Broken, ehm? Do you know... Do you have a damned idea of what I've been through till now so that you can classify me as 'a broken man'?'. He pressed tighter. 'Do you know what is it like? Living in a constant agony on a daily basis? Do you know how does it feel living in memories of the past each passing day, wanting so hard to let go but with the certain knowledge that the only way of relieving the pain is through death? Do you know what's being called a monster like? Savagely and emotionally rejected?'. He sighed, making an effort to calm himself down. 'Then, I'm afraid that you haven't the slightest idea of being broken down entails, dearest'.

She could feel the hurt in every word he had said. She heard his altered breathing and the growl of his restrained rage. She did not want to say anything. She just looked at him. And it was in that precise moment when she knew. She realized that the man who was in front of her had the richest, purest and finest soul someone could have.

'And I believe that I warned you clearly about NOT bursting into my privacy ever again, despite of what you still keep overstepping the line, not taking my warning seriously'. The mixture of threat, rage and agony in his voice made her shiver.

He raised his hand towards her. Angie's eyes turned glassy with apprehension and sorrow, thinking that he would punish her harder this time due to her impertinence. But, surprisingly, instead of strucking her tender sking his fist fell on the crystal surface of the mirror with a loud crash. It broke into millions of glittering pieces which rained down on the floor of the room.

Erik blocked out the pain caused by the slivers of crystal embedded in his now-bleeding hand. Angie was scared and alarmed and ran to fetch a cloth that could help her stop the bleeding.

For a moment, he did not seem too inclined to let her tend to his hand but, eventually, he conceded in defeat. Delicately, she took the pieces of crystal out of the wounds. He did not complain or show any sign of being in pain except for the frown on his face.

She covered his hand with the cloth and fixed her eyes directly into his, with the utmost honesty reflected on them.

'There are times...', she started while she was placing the rudimentary dressing over his hand. "in which life is the only monster we must face every day'.

With that, she gave him a final glance and left the room to bring some water to clean the wounds. He watched her go, analizing her last words. Why was she helping him? Did not she want to escape his presence after seeing his tortured self? He sighed, sitting down on the nearest chair.

Perhaps she would help him heal the visible wounds he displayed but the inner ones still remained, as painful as ever.

* * *

From her bedroom window she could see the church. The same church where her wedding to Raoul had been held. That day had not been easy, either. 

She remembered Raoul had found her crying a couple of hours before the ceremony but it had not been for the reason she had given to reassure him, even though it might have sounded believable enough. She had been thinking about rejecting him and breaking their engagement but she did not feel prepared to do so. Not when there had been merely weeks since she had been told that he, her angel, had died... How could she get married knowing that she would never have him back? That he would never know everything she had yearned to tell him?

_Raoul came to her, leaning a hand gentil on her shoulder. 'Christine, darling, is everything all right?'. He caressed her cheek tenderly. _

_She smiled, faking happiness. 'I'm fine, Raoul, really. It's just that I'm a bit anxious about the wedding…', she held his hands. Definetely, her performance was coming out wonderfully. 'All of this makes me very happy…'._

_He smiled, dropping a chaste kiss on her forehead_

'_Everything will go nicely,Little lotte'._

_She nodded but sighed as she watched him leaving. _

_Ah, she would always be little, innocent Lotte for him… Would he ever be able to treat her as a woman, as a wife? No, and the only person who had made her feel like one was no more amongst the living..._

_She looked around. She looked at the flowers, the invitations, the maids that were ready to help her dressing up. She had to accept her fate. That was her new, comfortable, luxurious and fantastic life she had chosen. From now on she would be a Viscountess... a Viscountess..._

_The church looked magnificent and shone in all its splendour that evening. It was specially embellished and thousands and thousands of people were looking attentively to the lovely couple..._

No. She could not choose that life. Damned her poor judgement! She did not want all of that! How could she ever behave like Raoul's rightful wife if she did not really feel like she was his spouse, not even his lover? Tears came out again from her eyes. She had to come out of that nightmare, even if it meant spoiling the celebrations and breaking Raoul's heart in the process...

Given that there was still plenty of time until the scheduled time for the ceremony, she managed to dismiss her maid, who did not really raise much objection and left at once. However, Raoul's mother interruption prevented her from breaking free of that house. Her cold blue eyes went through hers like daggers when she found her right next to the gates. The woman wore a ruthless expression on her face.

'_Oh, poor girl. You must be so nervous...'. Raoul's mother came nearer, a kind of faux sympathy in her words. _

_Fear flashed through Christine's eyes as she looked at her almost mother-in-law. She decided to go for honesty for once. 'No... I cannot, Madame. I'm very sorry for you, for your son, for everyone involved…but…this is more than I can cope with', she bursted out crying. 'This wedding can't take place...'._

_She did not expect the woman's reaction._

'_You will marry my son today, just as it was planned. You made your decision, dear, and you can't take it back now'. _

_She took her by the arm and practically forced her to return to the church. _

Christine came back to reality, tossing and turning between the sheets of her bed, unable to get sleep. Her life in that residence was quite similar to life at the de Chagny's. In both occassions she had agreed voluntarilly to that kind of life at first but then the decision had turned against her...

And now she found herself into a downward spiral she couldn't seem to come out from.


	13. Chapter 13

Before his eyes, the Opera Populaire towered over the street, bathed in the midday sun. He had not been able to visit it, not after that night. Rebuilding and alterations were still being carried out, perhaps they were finishing the last touches before the new season's opening. And yet, the parts of the building that had been destroyed by the fire could still be distinguished clearly. A fire caused by no other than him. Ironic, wasn' it, watching the result of the damage and fear caused by oneself?

Would she be there? Could she really be so near that he could enter in that precise moment and bring her out, back to him again? No, she would probably not be there, and even if she were, he wouldn't consider saving her. Not this time. He had done enough by saving himself from the desolation and suffering through all those months due to her leaving.

He raised slightly his fedora, focusing his gaze again in the place that had practically been his home and shelter through most of his life. Home, shelter and undoing, at the same time.

With a sigh and adjusting the scarf Angie had knitted so devotedly, he left. But what he did not know was that a person had seen him from the entrance to her small apartment. Her daughter was right. He survived.

* * *

'Are you sure it is her?', asked Emma, a bit uncertain. 

Marie's lips curved in an ironic smile. 'Are you blind? They gave us her description and it matches that girl's. She could be no other than the one we are looking for'.

The other woman nodded, convinced at last. 'Then, we must hand her over...'.

'That is not in our hands, my dear friend. They are the ones who have the last word in this matter'.

After this last statement, which left no place to further the discussion, the two women came out to the corridor, where they could watch Christine carefully. The girl was finishing cleaning one of the nearest rooms. Only once they had left, Christine came out of the room with a worried grimace.

She had to leave that dump. As soon as possible. But she already knew that was impossible at the time.

Xxx

The house was in complete silence. She had locked away everything related to his job and placed his stationery once more on his desk, just as he had ordered.

She could not erase from her mind the visions of his weakest moment. Seeing him so throughly broken made her want to break the person who had brought so much pain to his precious soul. Who, in God's name, had left him so lost in agony? Who had left him with so many memories and so much grief that made him think that death was the only way to escape them?

She shook her head, as if that could dissipate those horrible thoughts from her mind so that she reassumed her routine. However, he was there, silent, leaning on the doorframe and wearing that omniscient look, for he seemed to have been reading all her inner thoughts. Was she under her stupid delusions again or had he really took off the scarf she had knitted herself?


	14. Chapter 14

He had her in front of him. Her eyes seemed surprised, probably because of the fact that he had given into wearing her scarf. His thoughts drifted to the previous night. She had been the only person who had not screamed nor falled in a state of shock when seeing his face for the first time. And she had even tended to his wounds. Perhaps it was the moment to go on with what she had started.

Angie looked at him attentively. 'I…I've left everything on your desk as always. If there's anything to do that can't wait until tomorrow, I'll be around. I just need a break…'. She gave a quick glance to his hand, which was still hurt and covered with the dressings she had put the night before. 'I'm glad to see your hand is getting better...'

Erik came closer, taking her arm just as she was turning her back to him. 'Wait', his voice was soft, irresistibly captivating. 'I wanted to tell you something…'.

She stopped and turned to face him in the most casual way, waiting for him to give her another order. Perhaps, with the distraction, she had forgotten to do something or...

She felt how the distance between them shortened until they were nearly touching. Once again she started to feel everything that having him so near implied: confusion because of his attitude and the fast pulse that thundered from her racing heart through all her body...

Erik took her chin with amazing gentleness. He could feel how she trembled at his touch. He was nearing his lips to hers: his rage towards Christine still burnt deep inside him and this only made his thirst for revenge increase. She stared, uncertain of the reason why all of that was happening.

But, God, reason fleed when she felt his lips pressed on hers, making her close her eyes and loose in the sensations. Something inside her awoke and urged her to deepen their kiss, slowly guiding her until she leant a hand on his torso.

Erik corresponded with tenderness, placing his hands on both sides of her small waist. Kissing her was not unpleasant but the kiss lacked the feeling of Christine's. The reason was simple. He was not in love with Angie, even though she seemed to harbour some kind of infatuation with him. Her feelings for him were surely something passing which would disappear as soon as they had begun, they would vanish like steam shortly.

Gradually, they moved away from each other. The girl's lips formed a dreamy smile of fulfilment.

'Well?', she said, feigning indifference, though the brief sigh which accompanied her question gave herself away. 'Was that all you wanted to tell me?'.

He smiled. She had always a witty reply for every of his unpredictable reactions. 'Well…', he said, moving backwards. 'It's my way of saying thank you. And that was something that had been left hanging between us…'.

Smirking, he retired for the night. She remained, pensively, until she found out the meaning of his last words. That day when she had tried to kiss him. She laughed to herself, without really knowing if it was out of happiness or because of the brilliance of that man's genius. Her genius…

* * *

A couple of hours afterwards, her fingers were sewing tirelessly, mending and embroidering one of the many hats which had been ordered to her. Her head was lowered, focused on the tricky task. Her hands showed superficial scars due to her lack of practice and experience... 

But something caught her attention. The presence of two people who were watching her through slitted eyes with suspicion and anger.

'I believe we must talk, girl', Emma spoke at last.

Christine lifted her eyes little by little and swallowed audibly, fearing something without knowing what it was. She left the nearly finished hat on the table next to her and casually smoothed down the skirts of her poor and simple dress.

'And what is...that matter you want to discuss with me?'. She felt as if all her body were trembling under her skin.

Marie looked at her and grabbed her arm so brutally that she was pulled from her seat to a standing position.

'You'll find out immediately. Follow us'. The tone of her voice was cold and her request sounded more like an order.

They led through the corridors until they arrived to a room that looked like a study or private office. Once inside, the two women faced Christine.

'Sit down. We have to ask you womething'.

She nodded, frightened, and obeyed.

'Good...', Marie came closer. 'Just as my partner has told you, there's something that's got us worried since yesterday'. She pressed a hand on the armrest of her chair, staring directly into her eyes. 'We only want to make sure that you haven't heard rumours and other false murmurs'.

How was that posible? How was it posible that they knew that she had been spying on their conversation? That would be her undoing...her undoing.

She tried to smile, as naturally and openly as she could. 'That's imposible, Madame. You know as well as I do that I'm not allowed to come out without your consent and, well, you'll understand that I've been able to hear very little from here'. She prayed on all Heavens that they believed her story.

Marie kept staring for a moment, making her believe that she had been convinced by her lies. There were seconds, tense neverending seconds, until she spoke again.

'You are lying!', she said, slapping her hard on the face and pulling her from the chair by both her arms. 'You are lying, bloody spoilt Viscountess!'. Marie threw her sharply to the floor.

Emma decided to intervene in that moment. The girl looked horrified to both of them, through tears.

'Yes, we know perfectly well who you are...Christine de Chagny'. She gave her such a merciless kick on her side that the younger woman cried out in pain.

'Please…', she managed to say in a broken voice, defeated. 'Please…'.

Both stared contemptously.

'Stop the useless pleas, child'. Marie closed in the distance between her and the terrified humiliated figure that lied on the floor. 'You are now our property to do as we wish and you'll continue with us until we find necessary'.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked at them. Her scared look turned into one of pure rage.

'No…'. She got up with much effort. 'I neither belong to you nor to your plan nor to anyone!', she shouted. 'The only person I've always belonged to is not here anymore. Do you understand that?', her sobs were becoming louder. 'He died and without the chance that I could tell him all that I had kept to myself!'.

Without farther ado, she reached the door, covering her face with her hands. Both restrained her so that she could not leave the room but the apparently weak girl drew un unparalled strength from nowhere and pushed them away from her way. Today she would abandon that house. She would put an end to that slavery and maybe...and end to everything.


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you everyone!

**Phantomforever, **it IS going to be E/C, but you'll have to be patient..lol

Anyway, here's chapter 15! And again, thanks for your kind words.

Lovephantom83

* * *

Sleeping was absolutely useless. After all that had happened, the only thing she had in mind was the same thing she had been thinking of for hours. How to come out of that house once and for all. 

Her worried expression was bathed in the moonlight, as the moon was high in the midnight sky. She sat up, adjusting her nightdress and came down of the bed slowly. Once she had reached the door with quiet steps, she opened the door and came out to the corridor. The small oil lamps scarcely shed a dim light but it was enough to allow her to see in her way.

She looked sideways. It was early, then it was logical that everyone were resting but she was dealing with Marie and Emma, with whom everything was possible.

She sighed, relieved at last, and closed her bedroom door behind her. Everything was quiet and peaceful. It was now or never. It would be a question of minutes…

She looked pensively at her wardrobe, opened it and took one of her dark dresses from inside. When she had finished getting dressed, she tied her hair back with a black ribbon and gave a last glance to the room, with the undying hope that there would be happier times. Everything had gone too far and neither her body nor her sould could take it anymore.

She came closer to the window, looking back to make sure there was no one there. She opened it and climbed out easily. She began walking towards the main street when she heard a voice not too far from her.

'Is something the matter, Mademoiselle?'

She turned, looking in the direction from which the voice seemed to come. Before her, stood an older gentleman, impeccably dressed, who was looking sincerely worried and enquired after her well-being.

'What do you want?', she said, taking a step backwards. 'Who are you?'.

* * *

She was lying in her bed, her long hair was splayed all over the pillow and her cheeks were blushing. Now, even her subconcious was replaying the moment they had shared that evening. The kiss, the unprecedented feelings that had overcome her… 

She turned, leaning on her side. Was that really love? Seeing that person even in the darkest corner of your subconcious... feeling your pulse quicken every time he is before you... thinking only of when you would be able to meet him... remembering so vividly the tone of his voice and the notes of that violin?

Was love really so obsessive? She couldn't find an answer but she did know that those feelings were called up by him. Then, if that was love, she was in love with all her heart.

Angie sighed, sitting straight in her bed. She should be getting ready for the new day that was ahead of her. At least it was Friday and she would probably have a longer breaktime.

She did not expect what awaited her in her working place. On a small table there were two cups of tea and some deliciously-looking buns had being placed on a dish between the cups. He was sitting in a chair, staring approvingly at her, at the same time that he waved his hand in a sign of invitation to take a seat at his breakfast table.

'I suppose you'll need some breakfast…'-The complicity in his eyes made her blush slightly.


	16. Chapter 16

How surprising, he told himself. The Viscountess fleeing in the middle of the night. Those would not be too much pleasant news for Emma and Marie but he was delighted to say the least...

'Oh, do not worry Mademoiselle. It was not my intention to frighten you… I was on my way to my working place and I reckoned it was odd to see someone like you wandering alone so early in the morning...".

She frowned. What was that man trying to do with his babbling? 'I think that is not any of the concern of someone I do not know, Monsieur. Now, if you excuse me, I must go…'.

He sighed, giving her a kind look. 'I only intended to offer you help...'. His gaze turned to the façade of the residence. 'Do you live there? I'm telling you this because it's the only relatively decent place to live around here at times like these...'.

She nodded slowly. 'I lived there... but please, I can't waste more time. I must go'

'You must not have a place to go...I insist, if you'd let me I could offer shelter for all the time you need'. He looked at her carefully, pretending to be worried about the black and purple beating marks she showed. 'Lord, you've been badly beaten…'.

She read worry in his light eyes. Even though a part of her was really scared and intimidated by his presence, there was something in him that made her believe that he would never hurt her. Unaware of her own movements, she came closer.

She watched him with a mixture of fear and utter sadness when she was reminded of the way she had been treated in that house. 'Certainly not...I do not have a place to stay, it's true. If you'd be so kind…', a small tear escaped from the corner of her eye. 'It would only be for tonight, sir…'.

He smiled broadly and as warmly as ever, giving her a sense of safety. 'The time you need, Mademoiselle. You'll be able to calm down and take shelter from the freezing cold in my home if you so wish...'.

Her timid steps carried her near the stranger, yet there was that fear which whispered in her ear the possibility of meeting another person who might lead her to a new hell. However, in that moment, the real intentions of that man really mattered little to her. She had lost everything, why should she care about finding her end when trying to scape her own misery?

As they walked away from the residence, the man could barely hide a grin while he gave a last glance to the place...

* * *

The chatting while she had the cup of coffee and the brioche that he had so kindly bought earlier that morning had been one of the best awakenings she had ever had. For a moment, while she finished cleaning the dishes in the kitchen, she thought that maybe there was a slight chance that he felt something special for her, though a part of her kept snorting at her daydreams. She had no doubt that the person who had made him suffer so much had been a woman, yes, she had heard him whispering low her name... She had not been completely sure but he had told her something over breakfast that had confirmed her suspicions. 

'_Sometimes you feel that the past chases you everyday, like a shadow that falls upon you as the memory of someone who left you broken, and that memory never really goes away'. His voice broke and eyes darkened with fury turned suddenly in a soft smile when he looked once more to her. 'But you are a pleasant company, Angie'. _

Perhaps those words should suffice to know she was at least a part of his life but there was still a fear in her and it concerned that horrible passed event he wanted to forget forever.

Erik watched her putting in order and clearing the tableware used in their breakfast. Her hands were worn out with time and the unlucky life which had been forced upon her since a very young age. The girl had shared with him her personal history from before she had started working in that hostel. He felt truly touched when he heard her story. She was just a 18-year-old girl that deserve to be in a better place, not serving him as a housemaid. However she did not seem to complain and felt better than anywhere else. An ironic gesture crossed his face, even though she could not have seen it. Perhaps the moment of showing Christine Daaé what her 'angel of music' had achieved without her, had come sooner than planned. He wished to see her eyes, her face, full of sadness, when she realized that the only person who could have welcomed her back in his arms, did not need her anymore. Oh, the terrible sweet irony of it all, to see her suffering the same he had suffered when he witnessed a similar scene up in the rooftop of the Opera. A scene he would never, ever, forget. Her. In the arms of another man, saying the words that had stung like a knife twisting through his bleeding soul.

He decided to leave before she noticed he had been watching her. He took everything he needed and got ready to get out of there, to the streets. It was time to surprise his infatuated friend once more...

Xxx

The house was spacious enough and had a very characteristic air of elegance. The floors were wooden, like the most part of the furniture. She kept inspecting her surroundings from where she was sitting, waiting for the return of the person who had saved her.

A couple of minutes afterwards, he came back.

'You must be hungry . If you want I could prepare you something light…'. He stopped midsentence, realizing his greatest mistake. 'Oh, excuse my forgetfulness, Mademoiselle. We have not been properly introduced to each other when we first met. My name's Édmond.'. He extended his hand and held hers lightly. 'And you are…?'.

She looked at him for a moment, hesitating whether to give him her real identity or not. 'Christine...Daaé, sir'.

'Good... Oh, forgive me for leaving you here alone but I must attend several important matters this morning. Do not worry about anything, you will not be found nor harmed here, which is what I suppose has had you so frightened since we got here', he smiled. 'There is coffee and enough food in the kitchen, so you can very well help yourself whatever you like'.

She nodded and offered him a thankful smile. Once he left, curiosity invaded her, as every time she got to a new place. She still remembered the high price she payed for her curiosity the last time. He had trown her so furiously when she had unmasked him...

_You little prying Pandora!_

That was the name he had called him. And it was in that same moment when she had deeply regretted what she had done. That had been the first time she had caused him real pain, and unfortunately, not the last. She regretted having realized that too late, just when she could have not been able to tell him everything with a single look to his eyes.

She entered the kitchen. She was really hungry…

* * *

He rang the bell of the residence, waiting for one of them to quickly answer his call. Emma did not take long to open the door. 

'Gods, Édmond, what's happening now?'. She did not look too happy to see him and he sensed why.

'Ah, maybe you do not want to know where's your little Viscountess?', he said, half a smile forming in his lips.


	17. Chapter 17

Hi everyone again :)

**Pertie, **Thank you! I am so glad you'r enjoying every chapter :) You'll have to wait some more for the E/Cness though!

**Phantomforever, ** You're welcome, glad to know I calmed your nerves, lol

And now, enjoy chapter 17 ;)

Lovephantom83

* * *

Emma's reaction was quick, as she moved away to let him in. 'I hope you bring useful information...'. 

'Believe me, you won't regret learning about it'.

The woman accompanied him to the study, waiting for him to drop whatever it was he had come to say. Marie joined them soon in the discussion.

'I saw Christine de Chagny, trying to escape from here, a couple of hours ago. We've been lucky that she had not met me before for...', he locked eyes with them both. 'She is with me'.

Édmond waved his hand before any of her female partners interrupted.

'But...', he continued. 'I'll have her with me until I think advisable. If you'd let me I could obtain all the information you need. This would favour your purposes and mine alike'.

Two sets of eyes flickered between each other, trying to decide what to do. His words sounded so confident and persuasive and it was better to have him as an ally than an enemy.

'All right', Marie nodded. 'On one condition. That you keep us informed of your progress. We can't leave the girl out of sight at any moment'.

'Rest assured. That won't happen again…'. With a corteous nod, he took his leave. 'I'll bring you reports as often as possible in the next days. Now if you'll excuse me, my guest awaits...".

The clicking of the heels of his shoes echoed further and further until no sound reached the study, when he finally abandoned the residence. He had to come back home shortly. The idea that Christine had spent too much time alone in the house without supervision and could have guessed something she shouldn't have made his pace quicken.

* * *

Fortunately, his last projects had been successful. Once more his presence had been required. The few alterations that had been planned at Mademoiselle Villete's were going on quite well and she seemed satisfied with the visible results that were gradually showing in the building. 

After a very interesting conversation with Jacob and been sparely rewarded for his job, he returned to his apartment. Making sure that Angie had not arrived yet, he left her surprise in a hidden place where she could not find it, at least until the time came according to his plans.


	18. Chapter 18

**Pertie, **Thanks for your consideration! Lol. I know chapter 17 was kinda short, but I..hope this will make up for it ;)

Enjoy chapter 18...

Lovephantom83

* * *

She had fallen deeply asleep in a small armchair. Édmond watched her for a moment: she looked like she had had a sleepless night, planning her flight from the residence and the search of another safe place. But now he had guessed who she was not unlike he had discovered who he was. Damned his mother, who never had the guts to tell him the truth until it was, perhaps, too late to assume it but early enough to leave a deep sense of revenge inside him. And in meeting this girl, his chance had come at last. 

He saw her move her head slightly, as she opened he reyes. When she realized what had happened she sat up straight, quite embarrased for being caught in such an unlady-like and awkward position.

'Oh, Édmond…I must apologize. I'm so sorry… I must have fell asleep after taking some of the food you had kindly offered. I would not want you to feel I abuse your trust'. Christine was fighting nervously as she tried to fix the shawl with which she had covered her hair and whose knot had got loose overnight. Eventually she removed the cloth and freed her curls

He laughed. 'Please, do not burden yourself with that. Feel free to consider this as your own home. Besides, I'm sure that you've had too many hours of thinking and had to gather up a great amount of courage to come out of that place. It doesn't seem that you've been treated well. Not at all… You cannot imagine how sorry I am...', he came close, leaning a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'Right now no one can be at peace in Paris'.

He caught the shadow of sadness hovering over her dark eyes. She was beautiful, there was no doubt of that. He could easily understand how the Viscount had decided to marry her and how the family with the best reputation of France had allowed that marriage to take place.

'Come on', he helped her stand up. 'Now, resting is the only thing you must worry about'.

She looked at him. There was something in his chestnut hair, in his blue eyes and in his ways that were strangely familiar...but, ah...she was too exhausted and had no desire to think anymore about it. The only thing she cared about was that that person was the only one who had been kind to her for a long time.

With that, Édmond showed her the door of the guests' room.

'If you have any problem do not hesitate to consult me. Most of the time, I'll be in my study, which is next-door', he pointed the door with a slender finger. 'Tomorrow will be another day, Mademoiselle'.

She nodded and entered her new room closing the door behind her.

* * *

Darkness had fallen and, as usual, Angie climbed the steps to the apartment in order to hand some things to Erik before calling it a night. She did what she did every other day, left the things on the table and went looking for him to say goodnight. And there he was, sitting in a chair, a strange expression in his eyes, which turned a beeper green under the dancing flames of the lit fire. 

'Precisely the person I was hoping to see...'.

She turned to him, surprised with his demand. He wanted to see her? Now? He hated but loved with all her heart the unbelievable way he had of intimidating her, leaving her frozen in place, hopelessly at his will with a single word. She had been thinking about that and she was aware that he was the pure incarnation of danger, the kind of man she would never, ever, let near her but it was absolutely inevitable. She recognized the glimmer in her eyes when she looked herself in the mirror and couldn't repress a smile when she thought of his voice and dreamt of his touch, of kissing his lips. She had fallen...into dangerous territory or not? She couldn't care less.

She offered him a half-smile. 'I was about to go home. What's the matter?'.

He stood up and came to her. She watched him with tremulous eyes. He was always so unpredictable.

Erik touched her shoulder delicately, releasing a chuckle. 'There's no matter... why can't I use some of your time for me?'. He pulled her to him, making her blush due to their new and intimate nearness. 'Come with me, there's something I want to show you...'.

She nodded and followed him.

'Wait a minute and...', he whispered into her ear. 'Close your eyes'.

Listening to his voice whispering so near sent a shiver through her body. She obeyed, impatiently looking forward to seeing what he was up to and to discovering why he did not want her to see whatever it was that he wished to show her.

No more than two minutes had passed when she heard his steps in front of her again.

He cleared his throat discreetly. 'You may open them now if you want…'.

There she was, just in front of him, eyes firmly shut, anxious to see the surprise he carried in his hands. It was hard for him to admit it but she looked quite adorable...and he preferred everything would continue like that for the moment.

Angie opened her eyes. Her lips opened wide in surprise when she saw what Erik held in his hands. It was a simple yet beautiful dress. It was not like those elegant, unpractical, impossibly wearable dresses high-society ladies loved to put on but...more according to her own style. Long-sleeved and warm, the dress had a ribbon to adjust and tie at the waist and the hang  
of the skirt seemed to dip so graciously... She could not believe her eyes.

'This is…Erik', she stopped, unable to assimilate the meaning of the present. 'Is it for me?'. Her smile was incredulous, yet hopeful.

'Try it on and then you can tell me if it's for you or not...'.

She closed the distance between them very slowly and took his hand gently, looking into his eyes. 'Thank you. I did not expect…'.

'It was nothing, Angie. I think you deserve it for all the hard work you've been carrying out lately. And I hope you won't mind if I tell you that I'd like you to wear it for the first time on a stroll with me'.

She looked at him again with undisguised surprise and disbelief. 'Now?'

He nodded, waiting for her to go change clothes. Angie gave him a big smile as she entered the nearest room to put on her present, the present that would be her most precious possesion from then on.

He did not have to wait too long, for a couple of minutes afterwards she came out of the room. Well, well, he said to himself. She looked different, very different from her usual self. She hadn't put her hair up but let it hang free down her back. He arched an eyebrow in a sign of astonishment while she searched his eyes to find out his reaction.

'Weren't we leaving?', she said nervously.ç

Xxx

Moonlight bathed the park beautifully. There weren't too many people there at the moment, even though Erik knew by heart which were the less crowded areas, so it was easy to avoid the inconvenient stares of strangers. They walked a good section of the magnificent gardens until they reached the perfect place to make a halt on their way. From there they enjoyed a splendid view of the city around them.

'I'm convinced that you had never been here before', he signaled the breathtaking views.

She wore a flabbergasted look on her face. Yes, she knew Paris since she was a little girl but she had never really noticed that park or the views. Everything seemed more special than ever when the man that haunted her thoughts was next to her.

She did not answer. Just smiled, hugged him and kissed him out of impulse. A kiss as deep and passionate as the fire burning in her soul and body from inside out. Erik, of course, did not expected that reaction but hugged her back, pulling her tight against his body and corresponding the kiss. He tried with all his might to restrain the force of the small woman which was enveloped in his arms but it seemed impossible.

Finally, she moved away, without removing the smile of her lips. 'Thanks for everything, Erik'.

He looked at her, not really knowing how to react. 'Do...do not mention it', he smiled. 'I think we'd better return. It's getting late...'. She nodded in response.

On their way home, Angie leant her head comfortably on his shoulder but she would look at him every now and then, as if she wanted to make sure he was not an illusion.


	19. Chapter 19

Hello everyone, again ;)

**Pertie, **aw, don't worry! Christine IS in his thoughts, he's just trying to forget her (unsuccessfully, of course) And they will see each other egain, you'll just have to wait :p

Now..enjoy chapter 19!

* * *

She opened her eyes and fear took over her for a moment when she did not recognize the room she had fallen asleep in. Soon she remembered that she was in Edmond's house. She sat up and, as she had discarded the black dress to be more comfortable during the night, she put on a white dressing gown that she had left on a nearby chair. 

A few minutes later, she opened the door quietly and headed the living room where she checked the time in the grandfather's clock. It was nine o'clock. Had she been asleep nearly for a whole day? She looked around but saw no one. She supposed her host had been somewhere to attend that important business of his but found him sitting in one of the armchairs with a newspaper in his hands. Édmond lifted his eyes and smiled slightly at her.

'Good morning. I see you followed my advice and finally enjoyed a good rest. I do not blame you for oversleeping...', he stood up. 'Oh, maybe you'd like some coffee? Please, have a seat. There's something I want to consult you'.

Christine nodded and sat in another chair, near the one he had been occupying. She was afraid of what he might question her about because, even though he seemed trustworthy, she did not think giving too much information of herself and her past would be wise. She felt completely unprotected and helpless, alone for she had no one she could lean on at the moment and contacting Meg or her mother would be a reckless risk.

Édmond came soon from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and something to eat.

'You'll need it', he said as he took his place in the armchair. 'Listen', he made a pause while she sipped her coffee. 'There's something I want to make clear for your sake. I know your situation must be most complicated right now. Revolutions are never easy and many lives are lost everyday. Lives of people we love and care about...'. A sorrowful expression appeared in Christine's eyes. 'I'm determined to offer you a safe place, food and I can even try to bring your belongings back here. I'll do everything in my power to get you a new identity if needed.' He pressed a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'But I'm not anyone to force decisions on you, of course. If you want to leave, you are free to go whenever you like'.

She looked gravely for a moment and left the cup on the table.

'You are very kind, Édmond. In truth, I wish I had a place of my own where I could go to but I'm afraid I haven't such a thing. I've lost…two very important people in my life', she was trying hard to control her crying. 'But, on the other place, I would be glad if you could help bring back the things I left at the residence. I…do not want to go back there.'

'I'm sorry to hear you've been through so much but maybe I can help you. Leave the problem with the residence to me, I'll manage', he smiled and stood up. 'But you should not worry about that anymore. Meanwhile you may enjoy this peaceful interlude, go for a walk...whatever pleases you'.

She nodded and returned the smile. 'I'll do that. Thank you'.

With a gentle gesture, he headed for his study. Finishing her brioche, Christine decided to go into her own bedroom. Her steps led her to the window and she opened it. She needed to feel the breeze that warm and sunny day had to offer, close her eyes and think only for a moment that everything was all right. The young woman opened her eyes again, for she realized that she could not reject reality so childishly. Her eyes fixed on an indeterminate point in the wide space which lied before her. Why? Why did he have to leave her?

'Erik…'.

She pronounced his name in a soft and sweet whisper. She lowered her gaze, melancholic, as she closed the window. She needed to stretch her legs, go for a walk...and maybe that would have her mind occupied for a while.

Édmond was looking at the small pouch, full of coins, that he was holding in his hands. He had received it the day before, at last, but he was fed up with everything. Fed up with getting nothing but alms from someone when he could have everything. Anyway, he would solve that problem soon. Very soon, indeed.

With a half-smile playing in his lips, he locked the door of his study and left the house. He did not like the idea of leaving her alone in the house. If, somehow, she tried to enter that room…she could find out the truth and ruin his plans.

* * *

She couldn't really explain how she was feeling right then. Remembering the events of the night before in the park... Angie could not put her finger on what had made her kiss him, what fierce impulse had pushed her to fulfill the need of having him near her. Many times before she had told herself that she should keep away from him, that they could never be but, ah, she felt with every passing day that, deep in, they were kindred spirits: both lonely, rejected... 

She sighed. No, even though she loved him till the point of pain and beyond, even if her mind floated through the memories of their kisses and the desire of reliving the sensation of her lips fusing with his... that could not be. Alas, what to do when a heart is hopelessly and terribly in love with another?

Angie pushed those thoughts away when she entered again in Jacob's office to hand him what she had been given. As she turned the corner, her eyes met someone who was walking towards a residence. Good Lord, were her eyes fooling her or did that man really resemble the gentleman she had seen so many years before? She diverted her gaze before he could sense it and kept on walking.


	20. Chapter 20

**darklady **Thanks! You'll know more about Édmond soon... ;)

Enjoy chapters 20-25

Lovephantom83

* * *

She was walking along the park with firm yet careful steps, enjoying the small things that remembered her that springtime was nearer with everyday. The sun, the soft warmth of the breeze… but she knew that all those wonderful things could last too much. She was still scared of walking alone through the streets of Paris, she could still hear the shots and feel the fear. 

She had been walking for a good while, for she noticed that she had come near a street that seemed too familiar. Christine could distinguish with perfect clarity Édmond's voice from that distance and he sounded furious. She quickened her pace little by little until she realized that he was probably speaking to Emma and Marie. She leant her small body on the outer wall of the façade, trying to conceal her presence but listening to the conversation.

'How dared you? You are nothing but a gang of despicable kidnappers! Criminals! Having a poor young woman in need in those conditions, for the love of God, is inhuman! These times are hard enough for everyone for you to scare away one of your helpless guests, a person that you seemed to take in at first so kindly'. He looked truly annoyed. 'She was just lucky that I had been around and could offer her a proper shelter. And no, I wouldn't think of bringing her back here. Please, and I hope you won't make a fuss about this, as I've come to take her belongings with the purpose of returning them to their rightful owner'.

She could not make out the replies of the two women but it sounded as if they had let him enter in her former bedroom. She leant once more on the wall, astonished. Was someone really going through so much trouble to provide her with safety? It seemed too good to be true. She had been watching him thoroughly trying to define what was it in his manners, his gaze and attitude towards her that made him so familiar. Maybe there was something in him her subconscious related to another person she had met. She couldn't guess who but she was sure that Édmond reminded her of someone of her past.

She waited for a couple of minutes, resting the weight of her body on her hidden place, her breathing rate increasing due to the anxiety of the possibility of being discovered. She preferred if Édmond got out of there without any more problems. She knew Emma and Marie could be worse than the devil himself.

* * *

He was sitting in his study, deeply engrossed in work. Aside from his plans there was only a half-empty glass of wine on the desk. He moved away the finished designs and took the glass in his hand. Soon he was lost in thoughts, thoughts of the previous night and Angeline. Things were going out of his hands. Every passing day he felt that the situation was beyond his control. Why did she have that damned way of startling him every time they met? That did not allow him to keep the situation under control and he absolutely disliked that feeling of uncertainty. He had achieved his goal, of course. There was no doubt that the girl's mind was still clouded by that silly romantic conception which made their relationship a passionate affaire. He could not understand her fascination yet but dreaded the moment everything went down and out of control… No, everything was already going on the wrong track and, somehow, he had to look for a way to calm down the obvious flame he seemed to have ignited in her. 

He took a sip and left the glass again on the desk with a brusque hit. No, he would not allow that she went on playing. He would reset the rules of the game from now on. Smirking to himself, he turned to the papers that laid discarded in front of him. If she had ever thought, even in her wildest dreams, that her 'love' would replace Christine in his heart, she would learn her mistake the hard way. He hated her but loved her still with the same fierceness and he could not control those feelings either.

Xxx

'Mesdames, I have everything under control. You should not become alarmed…', Édmond was about to come out of the residence with a triumphant smile shinning on his lips.

'Naturally I can't see why we must play along with you in this stupid farce', sighed Emma. 'Those are all her things…'.

Édmond looked at her with visible amusement. 'The reason of this stupid farce, my dear Emma, is that you cannot trust anyone, and you know what they say, prevention is better than cure'.

He opened the main door, carrying the suitcase he had been given and which contained the few possessions Christine had left behind in her escape. He already knew she had followed him there, so she could not be too far. He gave a couple of long strides and found her terrified.Trying to hide, he guessed.

He smiled. 'See? I told you I'd help you with your little problem'.


	21. Chapter 21

Angie had just finished doing the housework after spending all morning in the streets with the rest of her tasks. She was carrying a plate in her hands when she reached the place where she was sure she would find him. And there he was. Lost in thought and focused on the project at hand, the pencil moved restlessly over the sheet of paper as he sketched with skilful determination. She came closer with slow steps, not wanting to interrupt that stroke of inspiration but she realized her mistake too late for his stare had already fallen over her. What had happened to the candid eyes that had caressed her the night before? They seemed cold and distant now…

'Did you want something?', his tone expressed perfectly what his cold stare had suggested only moments befote.

She looked at him in surprise at his change of attitude. 'No, I…uhm, I simply wanted to see if you were in need of my assistance around here, that's all'.

He did not answer but did a slight movement with his head. She did not know what to make out of his silence, she did not understand why had things turned so different after what had happened the night before. Resigned, she picked up the empty glass on his desk and put it on the plate.

He noticed she had not moved. He could see her perfectly from the corner of his eye, frozen, unreacting, barely holding the plate she had put his glass on.

'Don't you have other matters to attend, Angie?'. Not even a glance in her direction. 'If you have finished you may very well retire for the night. Go rest yourself.'

She felt her heart and feelings freezing with his coolness in that moment. Did he really ignore how much hurt was he causing her?

Repressing the sudden urge to cry a thousand tears of frustration, she merely sighed. 'Of course…thanks…'.

She was about to turn her back to him when she felt the touch of his hand on her arm stopping her flight. She could not prevent it. Every time he touched her his caresses had the same irresistable effect on her. Gradually, she levelled her eyes to his, so that they would meet again.

'I shouldn't have used that tone of voice with you… I apologize', his hand descended slowly to caress the sensitive skin of her arm. 'Everything's changing too fase and work's been harder than ever lately. I sincerely hope you'll understand and forgive my attitude for I'm only trying to cope with so many changes and it's been, well, difficult'.

A slight inkling of sadness imbued his voice. The dramatic touch that would save him the trouble of losing the person who'd become his way to the final revenge.

She could not suppress the smile that escaped her and the shiver that went through her body when she felt the touch of his hand on her arm. A couple of minutes earlier he had been harsh for no apparent reason with her but now, now he behaved like the courteous, sweet, seductive and affectionate man she had been with the night before in the park.

She nodded. 'It's ok…See you tomorrow'.

Her steps carried her away from the desk while he turned to what he had been doing before. Leaving the plate and glass in the kitchen, confused and gloomy, she went to the door and left the house.

* * *

Her small apartment was cold… It lacked so many things…She felt so lonely. Even lonelier after what had transpired between them. Even though he had apologized afterwards, she still couldn't understand it… She did not know his true feelings yet. She was very certain that her feelings towards him were powerfully true, but what about him? The worst of all was that she could guess the reason of their problem. It was that woman. That person that had broken his heart was still hindering him from moving on, from devoting himself to her with the same fervour she harboured for him from the beginning. 

Quietly, she get off her clothes and put on her dressing gown with the intention of getting directly into bed. Once between the sheets, she tried to find warmth under her thin blanket. She closed her eyes and tried to ease her mind and rest her body but it was useless because she could not get sleep with a thousand questions bombarding behind her eyelids. Why? Why was everything so difficult? Why was she having so much trouble in finding the simple happiness consisting of the company of the man she loved? Sorrow invaded her soul, with an overpowering intensity. Tears started to form in her eyes and waterfalls of them cascaded down her cheeks. She extinguised the oil lamp and leant her head in the pillow, taking out everything she had not been able to express in front of him. It hurt so much…

Xxx

She watched in appreciation the new room that had become hers in the two days she had been living in that house. It had taken a good time arranging all her things in their correct places but in the end she could say the room seemed now cosier and to her liking. She sat for a moment in the bed, wishing give a break to her poor, tired legs when she hear a soft knock at her door. She could guess who it was…

'You may come in, Édmond…'.

Once he was given permission to enter, Édmond came in the room and looked around.

'I see you've finally adapted to your new lodging and put your things in order'.

She nodded. 'I don't know how to thank you everything you've done for me today. It was very kind of you having that…chat with Marie and Emma and rescuing my belongings'.

Ceremoniously, he had a seat next to hers on the bed. 'You already know there's nothing to thank', he frowned, looking pensive, and sighed. 'You see…I do not know if this is the best time to ask you this but I look at you and, even though I try quite hard, I cannot guess how you've found yourself in such a predicament'.

She froze. Her hands were locked on her lap and her eyes were lowered. What would someone reasonable do in her situation? A part of herself warned her about revealing a man she barely knew nothing about her real identity but then he had been so kind to her. And she needed someone she could share the weight of her ordeal with, even if it was only for a few minutes.

'Sometimes even I ask myself that question, Édmond', her tone was totally apathetic. 'You know, before I came here, I was married'. He feigned surprised. 'Yes, I know it's hard to believe it coming from someone as young as I, but I did it'. Nostalgia invaded her gaze. 'The person I married was the perfect gentleman who came from a very wealthy and important family. He was caring, polite, affectionate and a good man… He offered me the chance to have everything I desired. A comfortable life, a good home, surrounded by all kinds of luxuries and people who would watch over my well-being night and day. A nobility title even!', she sighed and her lips curled into a bittersweet smile. 'But what the heart truly feels cannot be changed, don't you think?', she looked at him with tortured eyes, a tear making her way down her face. 'And what I really wanted was never wealth or nobility', she stared to an invisible point across the room. 'He died at the hands of those revolutionaries…and another important person died a similar unfair death. I don't have the courage of contacting the few people I know and…', another tear crossed her cheek. 'That's how I ended in that disgusting residence. You already know the rest of the story…'. She lowered her head, feeling strangely relieved, as if she had taken a huge weight off her mind.

A part of him felt slightly touched by the young woman's retelling. Ah, deep in, she was just what she looked like. A little fairytale princess whose decisions had locked her up in the highest tower of a castle she did not really belong to.

He pressed a hand on her shoulder. 'You do not have an idea of how sorry I am…', he eyed his small watch. 'Oh, good Heavens', he left out a nervous laugh. 'Forgive me for taking some of your resting time, for I'm sure you need it after today's activities', he stood up. 'Goodnight, Christine'.

She looked at him, a little surprised. 'I'm really glad you offered such good listening ear'.

'Believe me, I felt that you needed to get quite as much off your chest and open up to someone who wouldn't judge you by what you had to tell'.

After saying that and giving a courteous nod in goodbye, he left. When she saw the door closing, her eyes opened wide all of a sudden. His caring, listening nature, his gestures, that laugh… and so many more details…

They reminded her of Raoul.


	22. Chapter 22

The desk in his study seemed packed with documents before his eyes. He had business to attend and he had no time to waste. At last, little by little, he was wheedling the information they needed out of her. He just couldn't wait to see his partners that morning. True, poor Christine de Chagny had had a rough time but she had been given everything in the twinkling of an eye, while he, who had as much right or even more than herself, was only given money as a way to quiet him. Life was so unfair, things were so unbalanced…

Shaking off his pessimism, he adjusted his light camel-coloured coat and left his home. He was increasingly closer of his target.

* * *

Christine was lying facing upwards, still entangled in her sheets. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling. She was having trouble in getting back to sleep and she had been twisting and turning in bed for the last two hours. She tried to close her eyes and relax but found herself open-eyed after a few minutes. She was sure, since she had climbed into bed, that Édmond was inevitably a relative of Raoul's, a member of her late husband's family. But if he was, why hadn't they been introduced in the long ten-month period her marriage had lasted? Was her psychological exhaustion, her fear and desperation for finding a friendly face clouding her judgement? She sighed. All her doubts were keeping her awake and she did not know how to get to sleep again. 

Giving up her unsuccessful attempts to sleep, she got up. Immediately, she noticed something. The door of Édmond's study, which was usually locked, was now strangely ajar.

She looked at the door for a moment, unsure. She did not want to cause him any trouble but she had been curious about the fact that he had allowed her total freedom in his home and yet he locked the room every time he left her alone in the house. She had wandered about the reason why he did so. Her hesitant steps brought her nearer towards the door. She came in, closed the door and sighed in relief. He was not at home, he wouldn't have to know, nothing would happen if only…

Her eyes found a small pouch on the desk, next to an envelope. Walking forwards, she reached the table and took the bag in her hands. It seemed to be bursting with coins and the black leather was nice at the touch. She turned it over and…

'It can't be!'.

She whispered an exclamation to herself when she saw a familiar embroidered coat of arms which identified its origin as the De Chagny's. The letter was addressed to… Raoul's mother? Her eyes opened wide at the huge meaning of such a revelation. Definately, that man, Édmond, had something to do with Raoul's family, but what, exactly?

Confused and unsettled, she rushed out of the study. That discovery had only worsened her worries.

Xxx

'So, you have news?', Marie looked at him with genuine interest.

He nodded. 'More than that…', he sat down. 'I've found out something interesting about our dear Christine'.

Both stared attentively, urging him to go on.

'The girl's the real lost sheep…but that's not the kind of information that would interest you nor the business that's brought me here today'.

'So….?', Emma started, expectant.

'It seems that she's in need of a shoulder to cry on, and she believes I can be the kind of friend that would offer his generous help with that. She's already revealed something we did not know till this moment and, of course, I've decided to ask for…cooperation'.

'And I suppose we are the ones who must abide to that cooperation', Marie finished for him.

Édmond smiled. 'That's exactly how it goes. As you already know we are certain that the Viscount's dead. My contacts have confirmed it'. Both women assented. 'Well, it seems there's another person she thinks of as dead'.

Marie frowned. 'I understand but, what does that have to do with us? What should we do?'.

'Oh, two things, none of them too complicated. I want you to find out if there was really another person close to her involved in this madness and if this person suffered a similarly fatal ending'.

'And what if we do not find out the information you require about this person, who may very well be a nobody?'.

'Just let me know and I'll pull the strings. I do not want anyone who was close to her trying to locate her hide-out and play hero. Oh, and one more thing…'.

'Yes?', Emma and Marie exchanged confused looks for a second.

'She confessed to me she has still contacts around here, so if she attempted to communicate with them by mail, I'd like to make sure those letters are successfully intercepted. As I'm aware that you are well-connected women, I imagine you have someone you may turn to with that purpose, though I realize that the lesser amount of people who know about her existence…the better for us'.

Marie nodded with a cruel curl of her lips. 'That won't take long, Édmond. Do keep us informed…'.

He laughed. 'I will, Mesdames, I will.'

A slight nod of courtesy and he abandoned the residence.

* * *

She hadn't seen him in all day and, thinking coolly, she had no desire to encounter him again. He had gone out especially early in the morning and she had not even seen him come back and take his usual cup of coffee or tea. 

Angie did not know if she'd meet him that day and if he'd exhibit the strange attitude he had displayed the night before but she did know that she would never be the same with him. She could take delight in the plans she had made, despite the fact that, deep down, she was aware that she would probably never take the risk of carrying out her personal promise.


	23. Chapter 23

"_You have no idea,_

_That I'm walking through the clouds when you're looking at me_

_I'm feeling like a child, vulnerability_

_I am shaking like a leaf if you move beside me_

_And you're all that I see_

_But it's no good for me"-The Corrs, No good for me.  
_

_

* * *

_For Angie, the three days that followed the night in which she had poured so many tears went by indifferently. She barely saw him and only the memory of what had happened in their last encounter made her heart ache. It was because of that that she had tried to avoid him. It would have been too easy to crumble down before him, confess openly all her feelings and the suffering he was inflicting on her but, somehow, she knew that would be in vain. If she was not sure of his true feelings, if he did not tell her first about his emotions, how could she cry out the secrets of his heart?

With a sigh of resignation, she opened the door. She hoped she would be as lucky as the previous days and not meet him on her way, but her heart sank when she saw him in the living-room. There, leaning on the window frame, he stood tall, watching her through those blue eyes which had a spark of intensity, of brightness, she had never seen before. No, she did not want to get lost in his eyes again…

'It seems like an eternity since we last saw each other and could talk, hm?'. A smirk formed on his lips, at the same time that he made an effort to search and hold the girl's gaze.

She locked eyes with him briefly but soon looked away, focusing on a non-existent spot in the furthest corner of the room. 'I though my job here consisted only of going out, running errands, coming back to leave whatever you need, doing the housework and retiring as soon as posible at the end of my working day'. She lifted her gaze, challenging. 'I'm just doing what I've been told to do. I reckon I've broken no rule, have I?'.

Haughtily, her steps carried her to the table where she used to leave his things when she felt his hands on her shoulders, slowly treating her to soft caresses

No. She had to be stronger than ever, her willpower should be able to beat her longing instead of surrendering under his touch…

His lips were now hovering near her ear and neck. 'Of course not, dearest…'. His voice was now a soft, sweet melody that enrapted her senses. A delicious sound whose effects over her were difficult to control. 'But I would not like, not at all, that I'd lost everything because of a man's bad day…'.

She tensed, speechless. That was like fighting the greatest temptation of them all.

His large hands were massaging the skin of her shoulders with expertise, and after those delicate ministrations, he removed one of his hands and traced with its long fingers her cheek. Then, he kissed that same cheek tenderly, and went on to kiss a spot below her ear.

She closed her eyes, suppressing a sigh of contempt. Damned him, he seemed to be torturing her conscientiously. Didn't he know all those loving gestures made her weak, without the ability to react?

Finally, drawing strength from nowhere, she turned to him. Her look was watered with tears that struggled to come out.

'Why are you doing this to me?'. Now she couldn't stop herself from shedding a lonely tear. 'Why do you grant me with the most pleasant sensations and then take them away all of a sudden with sour remarks?', she paused. 'What kind of… game do you think you and I are playing? Tell me!'.

'Angie…'.

She turned away, stopping him by raising her index finger. 'No! No, Erik! I don't need your beautiful words, nor your persuassion. None of that, not anymore!', more tears were flowing freely and uncontrollably from her eyes. 'I need feelings…do you understand that? Sincere feelings!', she calmed down to take a deep breath. 'But I think I might be asking too much of you…'.

She started to walk away but Erik's strong arms had her trapped again. He pulled her to him, tighter than ever. Taking her face between his hands, acting on impulse, he seized her lips in a kiss. Initially, he was as shy and tentative as when their lips met for the first time but soon the kiss deepened progressively. The girl's lips seemed to look for his with an unparalleled hunger. She couldn't deny or ignore any longer that every fibre of her being throbbed passionately with every kiss, every caress, every whisper… but an unbearable pain forced another tear out of her closed eyes.

They broke the kiss and Erik could feel something deep in her eyes. Sadness and desire, a bittersweet mixture he had seen only once before, in his own reflection.

'Someday you'll realise all the pain you're causing me…'.

With those words and a final glance, she left the house as fast as she could. He looked at the shut door of his apartment with a dumbfounded, confused expression. He merely sat down in his armchair and covered his brow with a trembling hand.

Xxx

Christine was sitting at the desk in her bedroom. She had barely slept through the last days. What she had guessed, her worries and doubts were undermining her strength and robbing her of all proper rest. Her body cried out in exhaustion but her mind just could not obey.

She took out paper and quill from the drawer and started writing. She did not really mind the consecuences right then but she was still thinking of a safer way to get out of there. She was actually thinking of Meg. Yes, her friend had made her promise that she would contact her if anything happened, so there was still a little room for hope in her heart.

Closing the envelope and praying that Édmond never found out of her plans, she retired to get changed.

She crossed the threshold of her room wearing the light green dress she used to put on in spring-like days like those. She made sure she carried the letter in her bag and made it for the apartment's door. She found him sitting peacefully in his usual armchair, with a cup of coffee and a thoughtful look. He lifted his eyes as soon as he felt her presence.

'You do look tired today…I'm sorry that we haven't seen too much of each other lately. I'm aware of how lonely you must feel at a moment like this. I can only hope you'll accept my apologies'.

She nodded. 'There's no need to apologize, Édmond', she smiled half-heartedly. 'I'm not getting much sleep lately…I suppose I've been through so much that exhaustion is now catching up with me. Precisely I was about to go for a promenade. I think I'd feel better after a bit of fresh air…'.

'Of course! Besides it's a beautiful day, too beautiful to waste it by locking yourself in your bedroom, don't you think?'.

'I agree…'.

She left the house with feather-like steps and trying not to draw too much attention to herself. She preferred not to arouse suspicions of her new plan of flight. Édmond smiled. He already knew she had entered his study due to that damned carelessness of his and that she was probably thinking of getting out of his house too. Oh, but the poor girl couldn't imagine what they had in store for her…


	24. Chapter 24

Since those words had left her mouth, he believed he had been frozen for an eternity when they were only a few minutes. That confession, born from deep within her heart, would not abandon his thoughts for a single minute. 

'_Someday you'll realise all the pain you're causing me…'_

Was that true? Was he really hurting her so badly with his attitude? Perhaps his greed for vengence was clouding too much his common sense and did not allow him to see what was really happening. Perhaps it was time to try and forget, ignore his past and what had transpired before that moment… That'd prove a better solution than hurting someone else in the attempt of revenge.

Forgetting. Leaving all behind, including the memory of those bitter moments and the pain caused by her words. The suffering and humiliation of having him think for a moment that she had finally chose him of her own accord when she had only come back to return that ring. Did she really not want to keep anything that would remind her of him? Did she really hate him so much in the end? Did he mean so very little to her after all his efforts? He had too many doubts and confounded feelings and the fact of having to remember all that always brought the rage and pain.

He stood up from the armchair and came to stand next to the window he had been leaning on as he was waiting for her. His eyes lifted to the sky, turning an intense shade of blue. On one hand, that feeling of vengence bubbled inside of him still, but… did someone so innocent like Angie, not involved in his story, deserve everything that had happened? Perhaps his plan was absurd, after all. Maybe all he had achieved was breaking the feelings another woman had obviously got to cherish for him. She was truly in love, for he had felt it not long before in that kiss, in the feverish passion that pushed her to seek his lips… but what could he do? He couldn't help being in love with another woman who was not her and how would he explain that to her? How to confess the truth? He just couldn't.

However he did understand that the poor girl deserved, at least, a better treatment that the one she had received from him.

Sincere feelings, she had demanded. He had not known much of feelings through his life and the greatest part of them were not positive: hate, resentment, pity, humiliation… That was until Christine came into his life. The will to protect a young wandering orphan girl, gradually became a deeper feeling as he watched her transformation from child to woman. The feeling reached overpowering levels as he got to know her better with every passing day, as he was captivated by her innocence and beauty, the artistic nature and fascination for music they had shared from the beginning, the amazement when he realized how talented she truly was and how that talent grew greater and greater under his tutelage…They were both souls in the search for a light that would guide them through their darkest moments and perhaps that was what made his affection turned into that kind of obsessive passion that would last until his death, even though he wouldn't admit it. All his rage and all his lust for vengeance were caused by no other thing than that. That passion might have been a sincere feeling for him but was it really sincere? Could that be considered devoted and unconditional love?

He sighed, turning his eyes away from the views and going back to his desk.

* * *

A young boy knocked at the residence's door, quite agitated. After a few minutes, Marie opened the door. 

'Thomas! We did not expect you'd bring us news today…'.

He nodded. 'I know, but…', he showed what he carried in his hand shyly. 'I believed this would interest you…'.

She watched curiously the envelope the boy handed her. It was a letter from Christine… It seemed that she had tried to contact some of her acquaintances that still remained alive.

'Thank you very much', she gave him a full smile. 'Well done'.

She took some money from her purse and gave it to the satisfied boy in reward for a well-done work.

Xxx

Christine was coming back to the house. She had walked the greatest part of the route and she felt safer since she had posted Meg's letter. Her hopes were lifting but she was still eaten up by the doubts about Édmond's real identity. However, she was so tired…she only wanted sleep to come and claim her at last, even if it was for only a night. But a whole night of dreamless sleep seemed now too far from reality…

She had started to feel dizzy and her skin, which had always have an enviable and delicate pallor had now an unhealthy tinge. Cold sweat pearled her brow and she was feeling like fainting. She looked to her right and leant slightly against a nearby wall.

An old memory suddenly came to her. She remembered a time when she was a girl and her poor father was already in his deathbed, surrounded by a doctor and a couple of nurses. Pain made it impossible for him to get to sleep, eat or even speak to his dear daughter… Those were things that a seven-year-old child would never really forget.

One day she came into his bedroom, to enquire about his health. She couldn't stand seeing him like that, so sick, with no strength, when he had always been a man so full of vitality. It seemed incomprehensible. He looked so weak without his violin, without his storyteller's voice… But there was something that attracted her attention even more than her father's appearance. It was a small green bottle that was always lying on his bedside table. Curious as always she asked one of the nurses that had come with the doctor that day about the mysterious flask, its contents and whether that medicine would help her father heal.

'My dear child…', she said with an indescribably sad expression on her eyes. 'It only helps him to rest and reduce…the pain'. The nurse offered a bitter smile while, crouching to the girl's level, she leant a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. 'You are still so innocent and yet you are growing up so very quickly…'.

It was then when tears came to her for the first time. She did not remember how much time she kept her small head on that woman's shoulder, crying her young heart out.

Perhaps that was the solution to her problem. She managed to stand up with certain difficulty and rushed to the pharmacy on her right. Perhaps…


	25. Chapter 25

Once in her apartment, she sat down in a small chair and leant her head tiredly on the backrest. She couldn't understand why she had voiced aloud her thoughts and doubts in a moment like that but, even now, she felt she had acted rightfully. She had needed to tell him. God, why did he confound her so much? She had had everything so clear from the beginning…

She couldn't even understand why she had allowed him to explore her mouth with his lips. Nevertheless, that time had been different… the passion had taken over her, rendering her helpless, so that when the extremely sweet feeling of his caresses mixed with the bitter memory of their other encounters made her choke on their kiss. It could not be, she had everything to loose. Bittersweet were the moments they always shared but she did not know if she could stand it any longer.

But she should try to keep up with their relationship, despite of the suffering, for her job was at stake. She had to expect to see him again, unavoidably.

* * *

'I got your message', Édmond greeted them gentlemanly from the door. 'It sounded important. What's happened?'. 

'Come in', Emma motioned to him to enter. 'You know it's not appropriate for us to have certain conversations within earshot of any passer-by, especially after this…'.

He stared at the woman with undisguised confusion. 'Will you ever tell me what's going on once and for all? I admit you've kept me intrigued, Mesdames…'.

Without further delay, he was taken to the bureau the two women shared, the place where their business meetings usually were held. Immediately, Marie went to the desk and took an envelope, handing it over to Édmond.

Édmond held it in his hands, sceptical, because he did not think that the letter was something important enough to make him rush out of his home. That was until he saw the sender's name.

He even conceded a small smile. 'So she's already asked for outer help…'. The irony in his tone was increasingly cooler. 'Let's see who the fortunate saviour is this time…', he frowned. 'Meg Giry…', his eyes turned to Marie. 'I don't seem to recall this name. Have you read the contents?'.

'Of course', Emma smiled proudly. 'We've only made sure that it was properly closed in the envelop, just like before we opened it. And, well, she doesn't tell anything new, Édmond, besides the fact that she's very frightened, doubtful and that she apparently wants to get out of your house too…'.

He shook his head in amusement. 'If the meddlesome fool had never poked her nose where she shouldn't have, she would not be so very doubtful now…'.

The two women frowned suspiciously. 'Did something go wrong?'.

He smiled, looking as calm as ever. 'No, nothing that should got us worried or that cannot be solved, of course…', he glanced at them with real interest. 'But don't think about that yet. However, I'd like to ask you if you've been able to discover anything about that other 'terrible loss' of our dear Viscountess'.

'Not too much, but…', Marie gave him a knowing smile. 'Remember that now…', she pointed to the letter. 'We now have a contact address, a referente…'.

Édmond put the letter in one of his pockets. 'Very clever. An address that, of course, you'll visit in the near future'.

Those were the last words he exchanged with his kind confidants after three days without news of their business. It seemed that things were running smoothly. Now it was his turn to convince his lady guest that, despite her intriguing discoveries, he was still the same safe and trustworthy person.

Xxx

The door of the house opened and Christine appeared behind it, looking exhausted and carrying her small bag with white-knuckled hands, as if she tried to protect a very precious treasure from anyone's sight. Her breathing was erratic and her uneasiness had worsened to the point of not even noticing the person who was watching her with worrying restlessness from the other side of the living-room.

'Are you feeling all right, Christine?'. A worried Édmond crossed in long strides the distance between them, to catch hold of her trembling arm.

She nodded. 'Don't worry, I'm just a bit dizzy, that's all…'.

He looked at her, incredulously. 'Your face tells me exactly the opposite, dear'.

'I've been feeling sick since I left the centre, sir. It's nothing else. It must be the lack of sleep'.

Édmond's eyes expressed genuine alarm. 'You are feeling sick? I reckon you should lie down and let me call up a physician. He will examine you and determine the cause of your poor health…You never know…'.

She lifted challengingly a shaky hand and rested it lightly on his shirt. 'I only need to sleep…'.

Slowly, she shook off the hand that was holding her back and with uneasy steps, she reached her room. Meanwhile, he stood in the same spot, thoughtful. Might there be a last-minute surprise for them? He smiled inwardly. Well, well, well…how interesting the game would become if they had a little De Chagny on its way…

Christine took off her thin cloak carelessly, leaving it on the chair next to her bed. She did not even worry about getting changed. There was only one thing in her mind and it was the need to sleep. She opened her bag and took out the green bottle that would probably become the only help she would really receive to endure the pain. She had been warned by the good pharmacist about the danger of not administering the right doses but she barely heard half of it. Gods, that dizziness and the weariness were annulling each and everyone of her senses.

She uncorked the bottle and looked at it thoroughly, afraid of the implications of what she was about to do. Finally, Christine took the last step and drank a full sip of the brew. Afterwards, she lied on the bed and started feeling the sweet release provided by the drug. Her breathing slowed down, her aching muscles gradually relaxed and when she shut her eyes, darkness came at last.


	26. Chapter 26

Hello everyone, again :)

**XoAnGeL-Of ThE-NiGhToX ,**Thank you! I'm really glad to know you like my story. You'll get the answer to your questions in the next few chapters don't worry, lol

**darklady5289 ,**This fic IS E/C. You'll just have to be patient. As I said before, I won't make things easy for both of them ;)

**Pertie **I really appreciate your opinion. At least I know you'll be looking for my updates, that's good

Now..enjoy chapters 26-27

Lovephantom83

* * *

The passage was barely lighted. Of course it did not resembled the magnificent corridor she was taken through that night they had finally faced each other. It had been such a weird yet beautiful experience, that she had nearly believed that she had been daydreaming all the time and that her rich imagination had finally deceived her. With him, everything was different, magical. What now looked like a dark desolate place without charm or mystery that night seemed to burst with light and music coming from elaborate candelabras. His hand holding hers, his caressing voice… 

And there she was, in the middle of that nowhere, waiting for something… to see him, perhaps? But that sounded totally unreal right then. A sorrowful expression clouded her eyes and she was about to turn her back when she saw him. Good Lord, there he was, in the middle of that poorly-lit corridor, his gaze as grave as the one he wore in that horrible dream of hers. However his eyes did not lack the intensity nor the emptiness, as in her nightmare. The poor lightning outlined his profile, which looked even more enigmatic and beautiful at the same time. She must have been dreaming, for that fantasy could be nothing but a dream. Having him so near her could only be an illusion made up by her own subconscious.

Whether she was dreaming or not, she could not repress the open smile that graced her lips.

'Erik, angel…'.

She saw him smile slightly and motion to her to close the distance between them. Christine obeyed without second thoughts. She had been mourning to see him again for a long time, there had been so many things she had wanted to tell him, to explain to him…

Her steps felt feather-like to her as she came nearer. Anticipation was written clearly on her face. She just wished to hug him, to beg him to save her from that madness that sought to claim her eventually, to tell him that she loved him…

She was nearer with every step forward…

She seemed to be at hand's reach of him…

A pane of glass! There was a thin layer of crystal between them. All of a sudden she felt locked in her side of the pane. He was so near! He saw him making his advance to where she was and leaning a hand on his side of the crystal, as a sad expression crossed his visible features.

'Christine…'.

His voice sounded so near and far at the same time. She started hitting the crystal with her bare hands, tried to cry out his name in anguish…

But she was dumb, she could not speak. Everything transformed into flames of fire that threatened to consume her, both of them, alive. Her breathing was failing her, she needed to come out, she wanted to scream for she knew she would never know what had become of him!

'Christine!'.

Eyes opened wide as she awoke. Her pulse was quick and matching pearls of sweat rolled down her brow. The first sight she encountered was Édmond's worried face.

'Are you okay? Forgive my intrusion but, begging your pardon', he sat down beside her. 'You've got me really worried about your health…and you did not look like you were enjoying a peaceful dreamless sleep'.

She closed her eyes, still shivering. 'Worry not, Édmond, I'm…fine. That was only a bad dream. How long have I been asleep?'.

'It's well into the evening…'.

She nodded, looking away from his inquisitive stare. She hated that she looked so frail in front of a person she was not even sure of who he was. She would have burst into tears but instead of that, her eyes turned to his. If she didn't ask him now, she would probably never have another chance to discover the truth…

'Who are you really, Édmond?'.

He had mastered a confused look in a matter of seconds. He thought he knew what she was referring to so openly.

'What do you mean? I'm afraid I don't understand…', he smiled gently as he put a curl which was rebelliously swaying over her brow behind her ear.

'No, please…I'm only asking you for a direct, honest reply. I hope I'm not being indiscreet but', she paused to think of the best way to put her thoughts into words. 'I was wandering if you had any relation to my late husband's family. I can't help seeing so many features and traits of them in you', she stopped again, gathering the courage to reveal her greatest secret. 'They're the De Chagnys'.

He laughed. 'Dear, if you are telling me that because of the private mail you've found on my working desk lately…the answer is affirmative only in part. I'm related to the De Chagnys just on your…late husband's father side. But it doesn't go any further than a distant kinship. We keep in touch with each other through mail from time to time, that's all'

She smiled, more convinced. 'I understand…I apologize for my terrible behaviour earlier. I'm very sorry for acting like an ungrateful intruder. This is your home, I…'.

Édmond leant a supportive hand on hers. 'Calm down. This is your home too, remember that you'll live here until times change. And now, get back to sleep. I'll call up a doctor to check on you and I'd wish you would not refuse this time, please'.

She assented and he retired from her room. Even though he sounded sincere, there was still something in his ways that did not make too much sense to her.

* * *

Angie was drinking a glass of water before she continued with the last things to do in her daily housework list. She reached for her bag again, focusing her careful and undivided attention on the task at hand. She had enough pain in her soul so far. She did not want to keep up with being hurt again and again. 

'Are you leaving again?', Erik had just came through the door, leaving his coat over a chair and still holding the folder with his designs and plans in his hand.

'Yes', she looked at him coolly. 'I've got lots of things to do yet…Excuse me…'.

She did not even give him time to answer. She left, quick and uncommunicative. He watched the door closing and her presence disappearing with incredulity. Now she was trying to avoid him at all costs. She was really hurt. Even if she tried to look for the appropriate words in his mind to express the confusion that had taken over him with that situation, he could not concentrate or find the ideal moment to say them. Massaging the space between his eyebrows in a gesture of exhaustion, he decided that it was best to retire to his desk, as usual.

* * *

The loud bang of a door brought her out of her thoughts. She became quite uneasy, well; she had been like that for some time, for they had not received visits for months. They had decided to fall into a silent and safe anonymity until everything calmed down. She knew that her daughter had high aspirations and talent and, of course, she did not want the girl to give up all her dreams and threw away her chances. However, moving was terribly risky at the moment. They had some savings and she had calculated that maybe they'd manage to flee to England or some other peaceful country soon. 

She was afraid of opening the door, though she did not know why. Instinct, perhaps… With extreme caution, the woman stood up from her armchair, nervously throwing her long plait over her shoulder. A sigh escaped her mouth while she offered a last insecure glance at the place where the demanding voices came. Then, she opened the door. A couple of middle-age women were watching her assessingly from the threshold of her entrance.

She frowned. 'Did you wish anything, Mesdames?'.

Emma nodded, a smile dancing on her lips. 'We're searching for some…Meg Giry?'.

Madame Giry almost let out a gasp of fright when she listened the name of her only daughter in the mouth of one of those strangers.


	27. Chapter 27

She gathered all the courage from inside her. How could those two people find their address? Madame Giry was becoming more and more frightened by seconds. If there was something she would not allow was endangering her daughter's life, or Christine's. 

She swallowed with difficulty, resorting to her best acting skills. 'Mademoiselle Marguerite Giry is not at home at the moment, Mesdames. But if I may help you in any way…'.

Marie gave a false smile. 'Are you a relative of hers? You see, this is very important business…'.

She did not really know what answer she should give them. Those people would not probably be trustworthy and her mind was urgently looking for the quickest way to make them depart at once, leaving her, her daughter and the few people that mattered to them at peace.

'I'm the owner of this house. The poor child does not have father or mother. She earns her living as a ballerina, so she needs someone to attend her needs, help her and provide her a roof to live under, don't you think?'.

'I understand…', Emma took out an envelope from her pocket, subtly keeping it out of the other woman's sight. 'Then I suppose we'll be able to speak to you of the matter that's brought us here with the same confidence we'd offer Mademoiselle Giry herself. Would you be so kind so as to let us in? We won't take long…'.

Fortunately, her daughter was not in the house at the moment. She had entrusted the young woman with a few tasks that would take her an hour at least. She nodded and opened the door fully, motioning to them to come inside.

Both women sat down each in one of the armchairs with which they had furnished their not so roomy living-room. Life and circumstances had not provided them nothing better but they were content with what they'd got. They had a pleasant, comfortable place to live in and that was what really mattered. Madame Giry sat in front of her visitors.

'What do you need to know? I can't promise that I have all the answers you're looking for, but I'll try my best'.

Marie smiled. 'I understand', she sighed. 'See…we do not have too much time, so I'll be as straightforward as possible. We know that Marguerite keeps a close friendship to Christine de Chagny…'.

Her eyes opened wide, and though she had tried to conceal her gesture of surprise, she was certain that Emma and Marie had detected it immediately. Despite of that, she feigned confusion. 'I'm not too familiarized with Mademoiselle Giry's acquaintances, least of all her close friends. Nevertheless, if you tell me what is it that you want to ask her and who's the messenger I'll let her know. Anyway, if it's helpful to you, she has never spoken to me of that…Christine de Chagny before'

Emma raised her eyebrow in a very sceptical gesture. 'That seems a bit strange to me when we've been told that she was her greatest friend. Did you never see Meg Giry with a lady friend? Did she never ever name her?'.

'I'm sorry to disappoint you but I've been here most of the time. She's been working to become a prima ballerina, did you know that? She has so much ambition… so we did not have too much time to chat of anything else than her practice and… but, can't you tell me what's happened to that so-called friend of Mademoiselle Giry?'.

'Of course', intervened Marie. 'We are looking into her disappearance. You realize she was an important personality- I do not know if you are informed that the De Chagnys are one of the most prestigious families of France-and the girl vanished after the death of her husband and…', Marie delicately took the envelope her partner had been holding in her hand. 'We thought that she would know something after we found this letter. That's how we got this address. Obviously, the poor girl wished to contact her best friend before escaping somewhere else, I guess, because the place where we discovered this message was… deserted'.

She held out the letter to Madame Giry, maybe a bit unsure and expecting that she did not show too much interest or posed too many questions that would obstruct their work. She observed the envelope carefully and then opened it, waiting for the two women's approval so that she could read the contents…

Her snow-white complexion turned paler.

* * *

She was totally engrossed in her thoughts. She did not understand how she had managed not to fall under the spell of his gaze and touch that time. Though he had sounded truly interested when he had asked her if she would be leaving his apartment again… but no, that time she was determined not to yield to what he represented. She had promised that much to herself, even though experience told her that she would probably break that promise anytime and in more than one occasion. How, how was it possible loving someone in spite of the unfaithfulness of his feelings and of the fact that he probably had never corresponded her, to begin with? 

Her steps were now quick, trying to reach the place as soon as possible. She did not want to see him or know anything about him, just finish off and leave. In her haste, she felt she had bumped with someone brusquely, a man. She did not know who it was until she lifted her eyes, which opened in surprising recognition. It was the same gentleman she had seen that day , the one that reminded her so much of…

'Pardon, monsieur. It was not my intention…'.

His light-blue eyes looked at her kindly. 'Oh, it's me who should beg for your forgiveness, Mademoiselle. I did not intend to get into your way either, and I see you are quite in a rush'.

'Yes', she admitted shyly, at the same time that she prepared to get on her way home. 'It's no problem, sir, thank you for your kindness'.

Édmond's brow knitted as he paid more attention to the girl's features. He noticed something… there was some familiar yet odd closeness to her that bothered him.

'Excuse me', his demand made her turn to him. 'I wandered…have we ever met? Is it possible that we might have seen each other somewhere else?'.

Damned it. Could it be that he had seen her that day after all? No, that was definitely out of question…

She laughed carelessly. 'I'm afraid not, Monsieur. It's the first time I've bumped into you…'.

He smiled, a bit unsure yet. 'Yes, of course, you must be right. Have a nice evening!'.

She nodded, as she watched him heading for the end of the street.

* * *

'Then…Are you sure that you do not know anything?', insisted Emma. 

Madame Giry was trying too hard to not loose her composure and gave the woman a cold glare.

'No, I can only say that it's…truly regrettable that she's ended in such a predicament but do not doubt that I'll pass the message over to her, ladies'.

The two women stood and headed for the entrance.

'If that's it, we do not have anymore to do here. Thank you very much for your attention and please excuse the inconvenience…'- Marie looked at her with a polite expression.

'It's no problem', she smiled half-heartedly. 'If only I could offer a better help…'.

Both intruders nodded and said goodbye with false courtesy. Madame Giry closed the door venid them.

'Poor Christine...', her tone was spiritless. 'What have they done to you, my child?'.

That was the moment her daughter chose to unlock the main door. She had been listening to most of the conversation through the back door. As soon as the young woman found her mother, they clang into each other as if their lives depended on it. And Meg cried for her friend, while her dutiful mother caressed lovingly her long blond hair.

* * *

Somehow, she managed to get up. When she rested her naked feet on the cold wooden floor, she felt as if her body weighed a ton. However, she felt hungry after so many hours without having taken absolutely nothing to eat. She started walking slowly to the kitchen but, on her way, she stumbled over a carpet, landing on the floor and taking all the documents and papers that had been on the table with her. While she tried to recover her composure she distinguished some paper with Édmond's handwriting on it. Looking around to make sure she was completely alone, she took the paper in her hands with utter care. She began reading, not wanting to believe what was written before her eyes. Christine's hand shot to her mouth. Quickly, she left the paper aside. Édmond would be there at any moment with the doctor that would examine her. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Hello to all :)**

Yes, I am a good girl and here I bring you chapters 28-29 ;)

**Pertie: **Thank you, again, for reading and writing your thoughts! But I am afraid the plot will get even more complicated...

Now, enjoy! ;)

Lovephantom 83

* * *

Doctor Flagg had just finished her checkup and looked into her eyes, as if that would help him find the tiniest sign that might have escaped his clinic eye. 

'Fortunately, mademoiselle, you do not seem to have any serious problem with your health', she sighed audibly in relief. 'However…I've noticed an important lack of vitamins and your sunken eyes reveal that you've gone through many sleepless nights. Apart from that, everything is in order'. The physician moved away from the bed where she had been lying and put on his top hat. 'Do me a favour and have some rest. And do not use any kind of drug for that. It can be quite dangerous in the long run, okay?'.

Christine nodded, turning her gaze to the window. She now knew with perfectly clear certainty that she would not be able to have any sleep after seeing that…after reading that letter, its words still lingering in her retinas.

She watched as Édmond made his way to the doctor as soon as the physician had left the room and closed the door behind them.

'Then, is everything okay with the lady? You see…she's got me worried sick with her poor health and I'd thought, only for a moment, that she might be expecting. She did feel very ill…'.

The doctor shook his head. 'Everything's all right, except for the little observations I've told her regarding her lack of vitamins and sleep. As for the possibility of her being pregnant… she's lucky that she isn't with child. Her health is too delicate right now to successfully carry on with something so huge', he smiled. 'But I'm gladly surprised to see there are still honest, caring people around who may offer the poor girl some help'.

'I understand', Édmond just stared, perhaps a bit too thoughtfully after the medical report. 'Well', he looked courteously. 'I won't take anymore of your precious time. Thank you very much for coming, doctor'.

The possibility of a pregnancy seemed discarded for now. Anyway, that revelation did not entirely ruin his plans. What was more, that even made everything much, much easier.

Christine got out of bed. Perhaps a bit frightful of what she was about to do, even though she knew it was the only way and the thing she had to do. Definitely, the moment had come when she would hear the open truth directly from the lips of the person that had housed her through all that time…

She came out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Édmond noticed her presence and turned to her, smiling.

'You are a case, mademoiselle! You know what the doctor told you as well as I. You should be in bed, resting'.

* * *

Once more, business matters required his immediate attention. He did not know how but his designs had got quite far in the architectural world, and in Paris. Before leaving, he entered his small room to take his coat and he saw her. It seemed that tiredness had finally taken over her in the middle of her working activities. He glanced at her without repressing the slight smile that came out of his lips. They had barely seen each other lately, in an obvious attempt on her part of avoiding him… but she looked incredibly relaxed in her peaceful slumber. She was sitting in a chair, with a cloth between her hands and the jug she had been cleaning on her lap. Her hair was more dishevelled than usual and her head was tilting to one side but an expression of calmness and tranquillity was reflected on her face. 

He came closer as quietly as he could and, with extreme gentleness, he barely brushed her cheek with his long fingers, putting in his caress only enough pressure to awaken her. Angie smiled when she felt his touch and opened her eyes reluctantly… Shame made her cheeks blush in a matter of seconds when she find him right in front of her.

'Oh gosh! I'm sorry, really sorry…', she sat up, quite uncomfortable of being caught in such an awkward situation.

'Don't worry… Have you had little sleep? If you want I can let you…'.

She interrupted, returning to her icy cold indifference of the last few days. 'I'm all right, Erik, thank you for your offer but when I need to leave work earlier than usual, believe me, I'll let you know'.

She stood, cloth in hand, and retreated to the corner furthest from him, continuing with the task she had been completing when sleep had claimed her at last.

He had missed the chance of speaking to her once more. Ah, why was everything so difficult? Why could he not work out a proper and simple explanation and state it aloud so that she understood his behaviour? Perhaps it was due to the fact that, in spite of everything, he was afraid that the truth might hurt her even more. Perhaps he was getting used to her presence and it was quite possible that he might be developing a kind of affection towards her.

* * *

'You shouldn't be so worried', Christine looked at him amicably. 'At least I can walk about, even if I trip over the furniture as I did only an hour ago'. 

He stared in alarm. 'Did you fall down? Christine, you must have told me. I suppose you did not hurt yourself too badly if you have decided to pass over it while the doctor was here…'.

'No, it was not anything. Thanks for asking…but I nearly brought with me that small table and the papers that were lying on top', she locked eyes with him, unblinking. 'What's your exact purpose for keeping me with you, Édmond?'.

Her voice sounded restrained but, at the same time, it revealed what he had been suspecting for so long and tried to prevent from happening.

She had read the damned letter.


	29. Chapter 29

'_Dear Édmond,_

_The truth is I do not know where to begin with…_

_Everything's been too complicated for me these passed days. Raoul is not amongst us anymore and it's so very difficult to bear. Regarding what you say in the letter I've just received, I'd prefer to discuss that matter with you personally. _

_I understand that the fact of finding out about your role in this family not so long ago must have upset you but I believe that with civilized dialogue and good disposition on both parts everything can be sorted out in time. _

_Please, do not take my words too badly, for you know that, in spite of your circumstances of your conception, you are, in great part, someone very close to me.'_

Those were the exact words, signed by her late husband's mother, that had taken her to that moment, determined to discover who he was, what he was hidding and what his intentions were. He was still in front of her and she was still waiting for an answer. Tension could have been cut with a kitchen knife quite easily…

'What happens, Christine?', something in his tone of voice made her body shiver. 'Don't you trust anymore in everything that I offered you when I took you in?'. A smirk adorned his darkened features.

She looked at him with equal parts of distrust and strength. 'There are a couple of things that I do not have very clear about yourself yet. If you'd tell me, I would not obstruct your plans. I'll leave, if you want'.

Even she was surprised with the unknown courage she was exhibiting but she was still trembling inside because of the uncertainty of not knowing how he would react if she confessed what she had seen.

But he already knew very well how he would have to play his cards from then on…

* * *

The moon wrapped the city of Paris in her precious cloak. The tall elegant figure of a man strolled gracefully along the park. His cape floated behind him in the cool breeze that was blowing in the beautiful night. Under the soft glow of the moonlight, his porcelain mask looked as if it was made of the most delicate material ever known to man. That was his secret hideway, the place he always ran to when he felt the need to walk, think or simply clear his thoughts. 

A cloud sailed the sky, playfully trying to obscure the splendorous glow of what seemed to be her greatest rival that night. The natural views reminded him of the artificial scenery which had been chosen for the gala night. The night when her voice, that wonderful voice he had instructed to reach perfection, had soared through the audience and made every witness of that magnificent spectacle bow and kneel in front of her talents. He could still remember her…He had been listening ecstatically from his miserable yet fantastic shelter, every perfect note she sang seeping through every fibre of his being. He believed no one had ever been so proud of someone else than he had been in that moment. Right then he would have given her anything she wished, he had been determined to give the world for her love, her presence or a simple caress… Another memory replayed in his mind's eye, that of the day she had asked him what his name was. At first, she had been shier as ever, as if she had been about to commit the most unforgivable sacrilege. When he had questioned her about her uneasiness, she just smiled and leant a hand on his shoulder, the most innocent of requests coming out from her lips.

'_I only wanted to know your name, you must have one, even if you are my angel you must have a name…'._

_He smiled and timidly hold the hand that she had posed on his shoulder. 'Erik…'._

His eyes glazed over but managed to swallow his tears with a single gesture. She was nothing but a dream, an illusion. He would never see her again. Coincidence had made their paths cross again that fateful day when he had seen her running away, crying her heart out…but it had meant nothing. They would never meet again. She was too good, she did not deserve someone like him.

His thoughts were immediately invaded with visions of Angie and of all the new things she had brought into his life since they first met each other. What had he done? That was his greatest doubt regarding her. How had he managed to make her feel the intense feelings she apparently harboured for him? She was always ready to help him, she had been with him in his weakest moment…she had not even screamed when she had seen him unmasked, and yet, she still offered her young passionate love openly and blindly on a silver plate, just like she had shown him in many occasions. Perhaps that was what confounded him the most. It was impossible, totally impossible, that she had fallen in love with him for who he really was. Just the thought of it nearly had him laughing heartily.

But, what if it was so? What if she had, for whatever reasons, really accepted him just as he was? Even if it seemed impossible, perhaps it was time to leave his past in the past and move on, seize the day. Would he achieve it? Would he finally forget Christine, all the memories of her, of his love for her? No…

* * *

The house was immersed in a deafening silence for a few minutes, until Édmond came closer and gripped her arms. 

'There are still things unclear for you?', his voice raised furiously. 'Maybe it is because you are reading too much for your own sake lately, aren't you?'.

His words left her practically speechless, without the ability to react. Still. 'I don't…understand what you mean'.

This time his grip tightened and he pulled her to him. 'You don't!', he laughed ironically. 'Well, I'd say you do', he took the letter from the small table. 'I'll have to learn to be more careful about where I keep these things, don't you think?'.

'Please…', she was starting to panic. 'Only tell me what I need to know and I'll leave, I swear!'.

'Are you sure you really want to know, Christine? Well, I'll tell you…', he reduced the pressure of his hold on her weak arms. 'Your dearest husband and me were, theoretically', he paused for a moment, looking for the proper words. 'brothers. From different mothers, though'.

There were no more words. Not a sound came out of her throat. Only her flabbergasted gaze showed the effort she was making to assimilate the information.

'That is…God…not posible…Now I understand', she babbled at last. 'You want the legacy, the title…'.

He couldn't help but smile. 'You are cleverer than you look, Madame de Chagny'.


	30. Chapter 30

Hello all :)

**Solostsohelpless: **Thanks! I really hope you had a great time and I'm glad you liked the updates.

**Phantomforever: **Don't worry, his heart STILL belongs to christine. They'll see each other again really soon. Just wait and see ;)

**Pertie: **I understand, lol. It's good to know you'll still look for updates

Now enjoy chapters 30-33. Yeah, 4 chapters!

Lovephantom83

* * *

Thin rays of evening light entered the room through the window. He did not expect to find her but there she was. She was sitting, facing the window and staring attentively to the world outside. He did not really know why he had decided to go upstairs and visit her in her small apartment. Perhaps he had realized the time had come of giving her the explanation she deserved at last. 

Angie turned, knowing he was behind her. 'How come you've condescended to pay me a visit?'.

He came nearer and locked eyes with her. Honesty was clearly shinning in his gaze. 'I'd like to speak to you, if you don't mind'. Before she could oppose, he added. 'It's not regarding business or your job…'.

She nodded reluctantly and stood up. 'Well? What is it that you want to discuss with me?'.

He sighed, trying with all his might to look for the appropiate words. 'I've been thinking of many things lately, things I believe I should make clear to you'.

She watched him fearfully. Would he get rid of her? Had she caused him too many problems? She lowered her saddened eyes but, as soon as Erik noticed her mood swing, he lifted her chin with sincere tenderness.

He continued. 'Please, look at me…'. Once she obeyed his request willingly, he let go of her chin. 'Listen, I'm aware that I've not been fair with you these last days, and I see quite logical that you have not wished to talk to me anymore because of my attitude'.

She shook her head. 'That's not the reason, Erik…'.

He silenced her immediately pressing his index finger to her lips for a brief moment. 'Let me at least explain myself. I've… gone through many horrible experiences through my long torturous lifetime. Things you did not know about but that I made you pay for. You, who treated me kindly since the first moment… I'm very sorry I have not corresponded your good-hearted kindness in the same way'.

She smiled. 'You are right, I know nothing of your life, of what you've might gone through. But…I can perfectly well tell you that this has been the best place I've been in ages, yes, in spite of the bitter words and sullen gestures I've received from you. This has become my shelter now. I do no more than living the present and taking what I have at hand's reach', she held his hand dearly. 'Erik, if we lived everyday in our lives thinking of the pain we've been inflincted in the past, we all would be broken. You must try to forget and redo your life. Sometimes…', she paused and looked Hawai. 'Sometimes we have the chance of moving on in front of us but we are just too blind to see it'.

He carried her hand, the one that had been holding his all along, to his lips and kissed it. 'Sometimes one can be so closed in oneself than sees the truth too late'. He had understood her last statement with perfect clarity. 'That's precisely what I wanted to tell you…'

She looked surprised. Was it possible? Had he realized at last how much she loved him and how much she needed him beside her? Had he finally seen her as the one that could make all the pain go away, all the sorrow disappear even that deep sorrow that poisoned his soul?

Angie wanted to talk back but no words left her lips. She moved slightly, determined to keep doing her work as if nothing had transpired between them moments ago.

'I…I should leave'.

Erik stopped her pulling her tightly to him from behind. It had been a long time since he had had her so close to him. The agonizing nearness only made her body tremble.

He watched her bun carefully, caressing the rebellious tresses that escaped it, and started to remove her hairclips one by one, slowly and painlessly.

All of a sudden, she could feel Erik's breath was right behind her ear, as he whispered. 'I do not know why you don't leave it loose. Didn't anyone ever tell you that it looks much lovelier that way?'.

The melodious and soft whisper invaded the girl's senses. Somehow she managed to shake her head and laugh nervously.

'Pity…'.

He had finished undoing the complex hairdo and he was now sliding playfully his fingers through her long cascading hair and down her back. He rested a hand on her shoulder and moved away her tresses, leaving her neck exposed to his ministrations. His lips were leaving a feather-like trail of kisses along her pulse, which drew satisfied sighs from her throat. Meanwhile, Angie herself tilted her head helpfully, inviting his kisses to new territory. Fingers danced softly over the sensitive skin of her neck and descended slowly down to her shoulder, where they met the inconvenient obstacle of cloth. So gracefully, the skin on her shoulder was uncovered too and kissed in a matter of seconds. A strange but pleasant warmth was taking over her with overwhelming intensity. Sweet and slow torture…

She turned to him, smiling, and leant both her hands on his chest.

'You are so very special to me…and I thought I would never have the chance to tell you'.

He just smiled back at the compliment. He could not still understand how he had become so special to her or why she was feeling the way she did but it seemed something so simply pure and passionate at the same time that he was beginning to think that maybe she was right. Sometimes, chances are close but people can't see them.

Angie corresponded, sliding her small hands up his torso and starting her kisses. Many days without seeing him, many days without having him near… and now, at last, he had managed to admit his feelings, confess his doubts and trust in her, everything looked so much easier. Her lips explored his skin demandingly. As passionate as ever she caressed the nape of his neck and her fingers entangled in his locks with every kiss.

He pulled her even tighter to him, embracing her with his strong arms as his hands caressed her back through the thin layer of cloth of her working attire. She broke their fervent kisses briefly, giving him a wide smile as her hands descended from his neck to the lapels of his waistcoat, and then returned to the kiss. The fire within her burned intensely but soon she realized that the maddening pain of the passion could only be suffocated by him. Timidly, she undid the buttons of the waistcoat and helped him take it off. The flame that was threatening to consume her seemed only calmer when the garment fell off his shoulders and ended on the floor.

* * *

Seconds seemed to go by specially slow. Raoul's brother! How had she been so blind? How couldn't she have related him to Raoul earlier? After the revelation, it seemed really incredible not having noticed the familiar resemblance before. It was all so clear now... But, far from quieting her fears, that new knowledge only scared her even more and she did not think of anything else apart from getting out of Édmond's apartment. 

'Please, Édmond…', she swallowed audible and with some effort. 'If you want to obtain the title, I assure you I'm the wrong person. I…Let me go, I'm just an ordinary woman now my husband's dead. I've still some acquaintances in Paris that could put me up, so I could try to contact them and leave you alone…'.

He came closer, an unimaginable fury thundering in his azure eyes.

'So easy, isn't it? I let you leave and I do not get what I want. I'm afraid your friend Meg won't be able to help you, if that's what you mean with you 'acquaintances'. The heavy irony in his cool tone gave her the shivers.

'How do you know about Meg? What did you do to her?'.

Her voice trembled, not wanting to even think that her best friend had been killed because of her stupidity… no…not another loose to bear in her conscience and in her soul. And it would be for her fault, only for her nonsensical plan of getting help.

He roared with laughter, deriding her alarm. 'I think you've lost a letter too, haven't you?', he took it out of his pocket.

Her lips opened and formed a perfect 'o', a mixture of rage and surprise. 'How…How did you get my letter? Swear…Swear to me you've not hurt her!', she screamed loudly, shaking off the hands that had trapped her forcefully.

He shrugged and his face wore expression of cold indifference. 'Why should I tell you? And what if they had hurt her? What would you do, come out, running away to nowhere, to people you could never bring yourself to trust again?'.

For all Heavens, he was saying the truth. The damned truth. But she'd rather escape and live in the furthest corner of France with her poor dress as only clothing than stay there with him any more time.

'Anywhere would be better than this…'. Finally, she found her voice and she spitted the words with uncommon harshness. 'And now, tell me something…who were you refering to when you said 'they'?

He smirked. 'They are the same ones that have managed to intercept this letter, dear'.

She shook her head, breathing in and out at a quick rate, as she walked backwards. 'Let me go…'.

He caught her wrist, bruising her. 'When I decide…'.

At this, he dragged her outside his house. A new 'home' was already waiting for her.

* * *

He could feel the heat of her small body and how each and every one of her muscles tensed in anticipation of his touch. Perhaps she was beginning to gain a greater space in his heart. Could it be that, eventually, time would really heal his wounds? 

He looked into Angie's eyes, which were usually an ordinary shade of dull grey but had turned clearer and sparkling.

Desire was consuming her by seconds. She felt that the man before her, whose white shirt was slightly wrinkled and ruffled with the movement of her hands over his chest while they kissed, had become an inevitable addiction. She had even dared to undo his beautiful brown waistcoat, the barrier that prevented her fingers from feeling the intimacy of his skin. Even though she had tried to fight against it, it was impossible, and now it was harder than ever.

She stroked the left side of his face tenderly, wanting to kiss him again, when she was surprised by the pull of his hand, which led them to the small bed. Would her wildest and deepest dreams come true at last in that very moment?

He left her lying delicately on the bed and positioned over her so that he could have a complete view of her smiling face. Her long coppery tresses were splayed all over the pillow and, right then, he could have admitted aloud that she looked beautiful in some way.

Timidly, fearing that he might fall if he gave a single step forward, he placed a strand of hair behind her ear and began kissing her while she undid the first button of his shirt. His lips trailed down her neck and shoulders and his hand made its way over her leg. He felt her tremble under his touch, which ascended slowly…

Perhaps it was the moment, perhaps now he would began to understand her feelings and find peace beside her and not beside the memory of Christine.

Angie touched his masked cheek, wishing to remove the cold porcelain at once, but he grabbed her wrist aggressive but caring at the same time, emitting a grunt of annoyance at what she had nearly done.

He took hold of her face with his free hand. 'Not yet, dear…'.

Before he could release her and put both hands into the task of continuing the long pleasant journey of caresses, he heard someone calling his name with heartbreaking intensity and persistence. He knew that voice as well as his. It was Christine's.

He opened his eyes, unfocused and bathed in a cold sweat. What did that mean? Was that a dream or a nightmare? The answer to his doubts? The solution to his inner turmoil or, on the contrary, the realization of darker new doubts? He placed his mask into place and adjusted his shirt. He rested his feet on the floor. There were few occasions in which he decided to make use of his bedroom to rest but that day he had found himself exhausted.

He stood up. It was probably time to clear things up.


	31. Chapter 31

He did not release her wrist for a single moment. However that was not as scary as the uncertainty of what he would be capable of doing now that he knew that she knew absolutely everything. Now that she knew the truth about him. Every now and then she tried as hard as her weak arms allowed her to free herself from his strong grasp but it was useless. Édmond was totally consumed by rage and that was physically reflected on his heightened strength.

'Where are you taking me?', she looked at him imploringly.

'Please, Édmond, if you'd let me go…'.

A withering glare on his part stopped her from begging. 'Cease the pleas, they do not suit you, and keep following me. Do you understand?'.

She nodded. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably. She looked at her wrist and saw the purple bruise that was forming where his forceful grip had pressed her tender skin. She sighed and obeyed, before he did anything harsher than slightly bruising her wrist.

If only she could get out of there and go some place safe… If only she could get to that place by snapping her fingers… but those were only childish illusions, hopeless and desperate wishes. Her fear increased by seconds, for she did not imagine what would become of her. So far, after everything that had happened to her, she noticed she did not really care. She only had herself and an uncertain future. A tear rolled down her pale cheek. It was useless… Would that path lead her to her eternal ending? All of a sudden she started to reflect on the idea that maybe death would provide her with more peace than life had done. Life had only brought times of incessant agony for her, after all…

He seemed to be taking her not too far from his place. She followed his steps when he turned the corner of the street where he lived. Édmond stopped in front of a small wooden door, waiting for her. He took a small key out of his pocket and opened the door.

'After you…', his voice sounded calmer now.

She gave short steps until she found herself in the middle of a room. She watched the place carefully. It looked as if it had been abandoned for years, but it was still in conditions to make it habitable. Taking out the few pieces of furniture and the slight resemblance to a house, she might have assured it was nothing but a quite large junk-room. The only source where light seemed to come through was a tiny window at the back of the room.

'Why have you brought me here?', she was trying to disguise her fear but the tremor in the last word gave her away.

Édmond gave her half a smile. 'Having you here is just a way of making sure that you won't try to escape. I'll bring your things shortly, of course'.

At that and looking away from her tearful eyes, he left after locking the door. Christine came to stand before the closed door and rested the weight of her exhausted body against it. She felt like a little mouse inside a big cage.

* * *

'How come you have not been able to find out anything new?', Édmond was looking at them with a special kind of fury in his eyes. 

'Mademoiselle was not at home at that moment. We were received by the person who is in charge of her and she did not seem to know anything valuable about this matter', Emma watched him a bit anxiously because of his aggressive attitude towards them.

His gaze turned to another spot of the room and, in a fit of rage; he gave a hard thump on the desk. 'Well, in times like these, when you have not discovered anything new instead of accomplishing your task, I wonder why I've allowed you to cooperate with me. Move heaven and earth to find her, if necessary, or I'll have no choice but to do the job I've entrusted you with all by myself'.

'We'll do anything in our power to help, Édmond…but, meanwhile, we are still keeping Christine with us, aren't we?', Marie smiled greedily.

His disposition became even angrier and he turned sharply towards them. 'I'll make sure of that. And now, get back to work, damn it!'.

Then, he left the residence with determined strides. He was obviously annoyed at the awful news. The slam of the door made the whole building tremble. Afterwards, there was only silence.

* * *

Her small apartment was lit by the rays of dusk that filtered through the window. She still had to finish an endless list of simple chores but she was really feeling she needed a little break. Her mind was spinning with lots of thoughts. Who was that man? It seemed like a deed of Fate that they had met twice so far, and she did not quite grasp why he looked so much like that gentleman…The man that made her run away that night… A night which marked the date when she severed all ties with her mother, her home, her brothers… After that night, all she was left with was nothing. Now the only home she knew was that small apartment and her working place. That line of thought soon took her to Erik. In spite of everything, she missed him terrible. 

She was so lost in thought that she did not listen the quiet cat-like steps that were climbing the stairs up her apartment.

* * *

She was sitting at the foot of the rickety old bed, watching everything around her with uneasiness. She could not get out of there. Besides, she was sure that it would be impossible to abandon that place with Édmond's consent. She was his prisoner now and he would not let her go until he achieved each and every one of his aims. She looked at the ceiling in defeat. Then, her eyes noticed what seemed like a trapdoor. Maybe she could get out through the device but…surely he would be watching her closely and expected a flight of that kind on her part.

She looked around. There was a small ladder on her right, next to an old armchair. Without second thoughts, she took it. To hell with consequences, to hell absolutely everything, were her thoughts as she placed the ladder right under the trapdoor.

Christine climbed every step very carefully not to trip over the long skirt of her dress. When she got to the top, the girl pushed the trapdoor with all her strength, in vain. She tried again and again but it did not open. Frustration seized her and she hit the wooden surface with her naked fists. She moaned in pain and her dry eyes became red and puffy when the agonizing realization that she would never be able to leave the place sank in. She could have cried waterfalls of tears right then. She descended the ladder and sat on the floor in a very unladylike posture. She curled up, seeking the consolation and warmth nobody had given her, rubbing her frozen limbs and crying harder than ever in her life.


	32. Chapter 32

Her eyes were still fixed somewhere beyond the window, thinking in everything and nothing. She was wondering if someday things would change for her, if she'd eventually know real happiness instead of just getting those pitying moments of joy she had sometimes received from life. She sighed, forcing herself to abandon that line of thought and simply get back to her work, to what life had offered her. She stood up with firm determination but, before she could turn around, she was stopped by a warm hand that had fallen over her shoulder. A familiar hand she had missed badly… 

'Erik… I did not expect to see you'

She turned and meeting his presence so close to her after so many days of its absence became overwhelming. However, there was something new in his look. His intense eyes were watching her with resolution.

'If you are leaving because I've just come here, just don't. Not yet. I'll only take a minute or two of your time', his voice sounded genuinely sincere and grave. 'Please…'

She nodded, staring at him with attentive eyes, looking forward to hearing what he intended to tell her.

'I apologize for absolutely everything that has happened. I…I shouldn't have done this to you. You are totally unaware of what I've been through. So unaware, so innocent that', his voice turned slightly sorrowful, 'that I don't think it fair to make you pay for that, Angie. I know and understand why you don't want to speak to me because of how I've treated you so far…'.

A small smile escaped the girl's lips. 'My attitude towards you lately has nothing to do with what you told me that day, even though it might have seemed that way…'. She straightened her posture and lifted her gaze, searching his. 'Listen, I've suffered very much too but sometimes you must leave the past in the past because, otherwise, you'll end up broken'.

Erik looked away, taking a moment to understand the deep meaning of her statement. Leaving the past in the past would be the best solution so far...

For a moment they stood in the same position, looking into each other's eyes, with only a thick silence that made its way through the thin space between their bodies as the mute witness of their exchange. Soon, the silence became deafening and, far from made them comfortable around each other, built a great wall between them.

Angie finally found her voice. 'Well… thank you very much for taking the trouble of coming here to apologize but I've still lots of things to do…'.

She was about to go when Erik's arm stopped her. This time there was a very short distance between them.

'Promise me that at least you sincerely accept my apologies'.

Once more she found herself under the spell of the closeness of his presence. She could smell his perfume and listen to his breathing.

'Don't worry, forget it ever happened if that's what bothers you…'.

She had the intention of leaving but his eyes had her frozen in place. She could only sail forever in his gaze…

Gently, her small hand rested on his left cheek, as she stroke it lovingly. It was a delightful sensation that of caressing the skin of the man who had fascinated her since the first moment. So delightful that soon she forgot all about the chores that needed her attention…

She watched him tenderly while surrounding his neck with her arms. And she captured his mouth in a kiss. The kiss was timid at first, but soon, the hunger of not having met his lips, presence and words for an eternity lit the flame of uncontrollable passion within her. Angie caressed the nape of his neck, entangling her fingers in the locks of dark hair, as she explored, insatiable, the mystery of his mouth. Her hands began moving over his shoulders and chest, seeking and wanting to know every fibre of him. She moved away, smiling, and stood on tiptoes so that she could whisper in his ear.

'I do not know how you've done it, but you've become in a part of my world and now I neither can nor want to throw you out of it…'.

Her passionate whisper sunk in his mind. He really wanted to say something back but no words left his mouth just because he couldn't understand how everything had gone so far.

She needed him, so much that she couldn't even control herself. Right then, more than ever, she only wanted to feel his presence. A rain of her kisses showered him, from below his ear to the corner of his mouth and down his neck. She paused the sweet torture over his pronounced Adam's apple and kept going downwards. Erik closed his eyes briefly, still startled by the swift turn of events and of the way she had of giving absolutely everything, unstoppable and generously.

He grabbed her hands tightly and perhaps a bit aggressively. 'You never have enough, hm?', he smirked.

She laughed. He had never seen her laughing so openly and cheerfully. She could have even been taken by another person, for her eyes and face were completely exultant, lively and full of hope. For a moment he saw her as beautiful as in that strange dream of his, when she had been lying on the bed and her hair was splayed over the pillow, like a vision…

Due to his unresponsiveness, she was about to really leave when Erik's arms had her trapped with a desperate force she had never known in their other encounters. He encircled her waist and started kissing her with the same passion she had showed him before. So strong was his impulse that she couldn't feel the pain that shot through her when she collided with the corner of the table. She did not abandon the kiss for a second. On the contrary, she came closer to his body, accommodating her legs around his, while she tried to undo the first button of his waistcoat. The caress of his lips on her pulse made her knees shake and a shiver go through her spine. God, that could not be happening. His kisses became more demanding as he passed over her shoulders and the peach-coloured skin that showed through the low neckline of her dress. Swiftly, his hands travelled down the outline of her figure, her muscles tensing at the touch. He stopped at her hips, which he gripped with both hands. He could listen to her contented sighs and feel every beat of her thundering heart.

He moved backwards and smiled at her, checking that she did not really expect that kind of reaction from him. He got back to kissing her lips, slowly and deeply, as one of his hands stroke her leg softly. Finally, he moved away.

'Is this your way of accepting my apologies, then?', he looked at her slightly amused.

Her breathing was still visibly altered and her lips half-opened. 'I guess so…'

Erik caressed her cheek briefly and furthered the gap between them.

'I think we both have certain occupations that need our attention, don't we?'.

She nodded with undisguised frustration. 'You are right'. She smiled, her cheeks still flushed. 'I…I will see you in a couple of hours'.

He made a sign of assent as he watched her rearrange her clothes and go out to the streets again. Once he was alone, his gaze turned to the spot that Angie had left vacant. Perhaps that change in his life was beneficial and forgetting Christine was just something that time would do by itself, wouldn't it? With these hopeful thoughts he descended the stairs that had led him to her apartment.

* * *

The cracking of wood awoke her. She removed her hands, which had been covering her face, and looked up from the floor. She sat up when she saw the doorknob turning. Édmond came in with the suitcase he had supposedly managed to bring back from the residence. 

'I hope I did not leave anything behind…', he watched her, slightly worried. 'Your eyes are red, I think it would be better if you tried to have a rest'.

'You already know that it's hard for me but I can try it'. Her words sounded cold, though she did not dare to look at him directly.

He took some steps forwards and held her arm to catch her attention. 'As long as you are here, I can assure you that you are completely safe'.

Christine look around, a strange smirk forming in her mouth. She shook off his hand. 'Here? I doubt very much that I could ever feel the slightest bit comfortable and safe in this junk-room, monsieur, that is without taking into account the uncertainty regarding what those people you were referring to are planning to do with me'.

'You'd better control your tongue', a flash of a threat crossed his eyes.

Without replying, she stood up and turned her back to him, walking to the back of the dark room. She did not want to talk to him. In those moments, a mixture of self-loathing and hatred towards the mean, ambitious man behind her, would have made her explode anytime. It was not until she heard the door being locked when she decided to move again. She could very well start unpacking the few things she had left in her former room, not so long from where she was.


	33. Chapter 33

For five days he had managed to keep Christine locked in that limited space. He had not known the truth until her step-mother fell seriously ill a couple of months before. All the time he had been living with his mother and father like an apparently normal family seemed now only a lie. Everything was revealed the day when that lie became obvious and he had no option but to demand the truth. His wishes were fulfilled. His biological mother had abandoned him, leaving him with a couple of strangers when he was still a baby. She had not handed her son over to those people all by herself, though. A man, his real father, had gone with her. As soon as he knew the name of that man and he gained enough experience, he started developing his master plan fully. And so, he took his chances. He was determined that someday he would have his reward for all the harm he had been caused. However, his polite approaches had been rejected several times, as well as his open demands. He had realized that, somehow, they would have to accept him in the end, willingly or not. 

He left all his papers on the desk and locked the door to his study, smiling to himself. At last, the moment he had been expecting had come.

* * *

'Are you sure everything is ready, ladies?'. Two men were at the entrance of the residence, waiting impatiently the answer to their question. 

Emma nodded. 'She will be there with Édmond in a few hours, monsieur'.

'Great…'. The other man, in his middle-ages, was grinning. 'Well, we are all looking forward to our happy little reunion. It's not that everyday you find the most wanted Viscountess'.

At this, he gave a courteous nod, put on his hat again and both men departed.

She woke up. It seemed that what she had bought at the chemist's was taking effect. She wouldn't have lasted a single night in that hole if it hadn't been for that wonderful drug. She was distressed and the feeling of suffocation was not helping. Édmond would keep refusing to give her her freedom back until she withered and died in there. How was she feeling? How was she feeling knowing that she would die in that place, alone? Anguished, not because of the fact that she was going to die but because that death would be low, cruel and inhuman. Nevertheless, the 'how' did not matter too much in the end. Whatever death was awaiting for her, it would be her sweetest release. With death she would find peace…and him.

She stood up and walked to the small toilet she had been using each and every one of the neverending days she had spent there. The same routine was driving her crazy. She barely saw the light of day anymore and found herself under the close vigilante of the dangerous and unpredictable man that had planned her uncertain future with careful detail.

* * *

'I'd like if you'd be ready in an hour. You'll be coming with me'. 

She said nothing. Christine just nodded and came into her small and not too useful bathroom. As soon as she closed the door, she heard the familiar sound of the bolt. The unusual politeness of his request sounded eerie to her and it did nothing to calm her nerves.

* * *

The waiting seemed to be taking longer than necessary. However, before any of them could start doubting where the other man's true loyalties lied, a voice caught their attention. 

'Messieurs', Édmond said. 'I've got her with me and she's waiting in the main hall'.

Jacques and Maurice nodded, immediately making their way to the room in question. There she was, sitting straight but submissively still, in one of the armchairs of Édmond's living-room. Her eyes were full of fear, her expression resigned as if she really wanted to scream but did not have the courage to do so. When she noticed their presence, the girl turned her gaze to them and stood up.

'Madame de Chagny, it's a pleasure meeting you at last…'. A smirk was beginning to show in Jacques' lips.

* * *

It seemed ironic thinking how, since that day, all his worries had decreased at least in some ways 

The relationship between them had changed slightly, that was for sure. A strange complicity had settled between them, latent but not blatantly obvious. He was sure the moment would come when she would demand to know more about him, of his life. After all, he was nothing but an enigma in her world…

_She had told him that he was a part of her world, a fundamental piece. Essential. _

But, how was that posible? How could someone like him make someone feel so dependent of his love, of his presence? No. After she left, he had cast aside the possibility that someone could ever love him, just love him for who he was. With her gone, all the possibilities of ever thinking of love again disappeared. It was so contradictory! Contradictory, for Angie seemed to be devoted to him blindly, uninfluenced, unbounded…

How would the years that lied ahead of him be without her memory? Without listening to her voice, sweetly captivating? Without remembering, despite the pain, the softness of her skin, which his fingers had known only in some blissful moments? On one side, forgetting would be benefitial but, on the other, did he really want to free himself from her? From the one and only person that had really made his heart burn?

_You broke your promise and made me realize it was all just a lie… _

He sighed. No. Don't let her memory carry yourself to the abyss again… He was trying to convince himself of that, while he prepared his next movement in that kind of dangerous game he and the woman who'd return soon were both involved.

* * *

Christine's voice came out timidly. 'What do you want from me? I'd beg you not to address me by my former title, it's useless now…'. 

'As you please…', Maurice motioned to her to take a seat. 'We have to ask you some questions…'.

She showed her consent by giving a sharp nod and waited for the avalanche of questions like the prisoner who assimilates his death penalty.

'You see, Christine', Édmond came near. 'We only want some answers, that's all'.

'Answers regarding what?', she looked at them rather harshly. 'Regarding my husband's family? Their fortune? Because, believe me, if that's what this is all about, I won't say a single word'.

'Listen, Mademoiselle', Jacques interrupted her rebellious outburst. 'I can assure you that you would have been as dead as your husband for a long time now. You must feel grateful at how lucky you've been so far and that you are speaking to us now and not six feet under. Remember you are one of the most wanted people in France…'.

'How do you know that?'. Fear was gradually taking over her as time went by.

'I thought we were the ones asking the questions here, Christine', Édmond intervened. 'You have a way to come out of this unharmed. Just answer the questions, listen to what they have to tell you and we'll be at peace…'.

Her mind went blank. She had been momentarily robbed of the capacity to react.

'Well…', Maurice returned to their conversation. 'We have an offer to make you… We can make a deal if you help us, all right? Tell us, Christine, during your marriage to the Viscount, did you ever speak to his father, Phillip?'.

She looked confused. 'Well, obviously I did talk to him on occasion, he was my father-in-law but our conversations were inconsequential… Why would you want to know that? I'm not here to clear the way to your evil purposes for you!'

'I told you to keep those impertinent questions of yours quiet', the tone of Édmond's voice had a dangerous tinge to it. 'We are only asking because you probably know where we can find something we have been searching for a long time. You can very well join us, collaborate and tell us how to obtain access to all the luxuries and properties of that wonderful family you belonged to for nine months or we can just deliver you to the highest bidder. It's your choice'.

Her body was trembling and lots of horrible thoughts were going through her mind. Surrendering and finish with that nightmare once and for all or escaping as soon as she had the chance… Her soul would not stand that tension anymore. It seemed that she was condemned to always choose between two decisions, two pathways, one that was safer and the other one, which was not so easy but more correct. She had learnt that lesson the hard way when she made the greatest mistake in her life and she would not let that happen again.

'You are so wicked, so…despicable', she stood bolt upright. 'I won't say anything, so you can very well start looking for another source of information because…', her breathing was quick, though she was restraining her anger. 'I won't take part in this farce!'.

She was already walking towards the back door when Édmond grabbed her arm and made her spin round brusquely so that they would stand facing each other.

'You won't get out of here…'.

Her hand, which was clutching the doorknob, began shaking when she felt the coldness in his statement. But this time she was determined not to let fear cloud her judgement and her willpower. She opened the door and got out of the house, without looking back. Once she was bathed in the light of day she kept running through the back alley. Soon, a breathless Édmond caught up with her and took hold of both her arms, pulling her from behind.

'Do that again and I'll make sure you will have neither none nor nowhere to turn to when this ends…'.

'I do not need a place to live in if that means living together with a dishonest person like you!'. Fury came in waves out of her mouth for the first time.

He sighed, exhausted. 'Well, if you want honesty I'll be honest for once. I hope this will be clear enough for you: the De Chagnys denied me the right to become part of their family, a family I belonged to as rightfully as Raoul, so…', Christine was already watching with fresh tears in her eyes. 'I worked and still do for the same people who killed him'. He finished the sentence with unashamed triumph.

Somehow she managed to shake off the offensive arms that prevented her from escaping. Then she cried. 'Forget me! You and all your damned sidekicks, forget I ever existed! Is that clear enough _for you_, monsieur?'.

After this, she started running again down the alley. She could not bear it anymore, the heavy weight of events was becoming too much for her exhausted shoulders. She wanted to rest…even her eyes were tired of crying and her soul was fed up with feeling lonely and troubled.

For twenty minutes, her light steps were carrying her downhill as she flashed past the Parisian streets. She remained on the alert. She knew they would have started looking for her as soon as she had abandoned the house and they surely had the means of catching up with her in spite of that shot of adrenalin which helped her increase her speed. Picking up the skirts of her dress and clutching her bag, she looked sideways in some dark lane and continued her race to nowhere.

That was until she found herself at the back entrance to the Opéra Populaire.


	34. Chapter 34

**Hello everyone:)**

Just a quick note. Ok, here I bring chapters 34-38. And yes, FINALLY, in these chapters erik &christine will see each other again.

**Phantomforever: **Do not worry, his memory of Christine is NOT fading. You'll see that in the next chapters

**darklady: **Thanks! Yeah some friends of mine and people who reviewed the spanish copy thought exactly the same thing, lol.

**Pertie: **Thank you very much! I appreciate your words

And now, enjoy the updates everyone

Lovephantom83

"_I have dreamt of a place for you and I_

_No one knows who we are there_

_All I want is to give my life only to you_

_I've dreamt so long I cannot dream anymore_

_Let's run away, I'll take you there.."-Anywhere, Evanescence_

_

* * *

_

When Angie entered the apartment, she noticed that everything was completely in silence. She looked around her and found strange not seeing him working at his desk, or just waiting for her arrival, leaning on the window frame and offering her that look full of complicity she'd never get used to. Without really taking his absence too seriously, she unconsciously shrugged her shoulders and left his things on the table, as always.

She was finishing this when two strong hands caught her shoulders. She smiled instead of getting startled this time.

'Precisely', he said softly, near her cheek, 'I wanted to ask you something'.

Laughing casually, the girl turned and she rested one of her hands on the lapels of his jacket, slightly pulling at it.

'And that question is…?', she encouraged.

He gave her a half smile. 'I just wanted to know if you wouldn't mind staying a bit after finishing off instead of returning to your apartment…That's all'.

Her cheeks blushed furiously when he named her apartment after what had happened there only a few hours before. The feeling of his lips on her neck, delighting her with such delicious caresses, still lingered on her skin. What was he trying to do keeping her with him after she finished her chores?

'Of course not… I…I'll come here later if you want me to'. She was looking at him timidly and yet knowingly.

He nodded and a last suggestion left his mouth as she abandoned his house once more.

'This would also be a good occasion to wear that dress I gave you…'.

She smiled to herself as she closed the door. Would that be the beginning of their relationship as a normal couple?

Xxx

She looked sideways and opened the door with urgent need. She knew where to go for she remembered clearly what lied beneath the luxurious and majestic façade of the Opéra Populaire. Down, below the stages and cellars, there was a place, a sancturary which once belonged to someone who would never come back to it, someone she would never see again…or maybe she would, after her death. Would he still be waiting for her? Heaven must have reserved room even for that wonderful fallen angel. He would be calling her to him, just like he had done in her dream, expecting their reunion, wanting her beside him again. Perhaps that secret Paradise would be the only place where both of them could get the peace they had sought through their lives.

She started walking through the dimly lit passages. Everything seemed cold now, so cold that she could do nothing to stop the shivers that assaulted her. But she had to be strong; she was coming near her final destiny at last, close to rejoin the person she must have chosen from the beginning. She didn't, though, because of her immaturity, her lack of common sense, for fear, for so many reasons…

In the place that awaited her she would know no worries, there would be no pursuers tracing her steps or his. They would take care of each other and make up for the lost time devoting to one another, confessing the words that should have been pronounced but that never left their mouths.

Forgetting that shadow of a life she was living and going to him was the only way to find peace and safety. In his arms, with his music and his presence…his caring gaze, full of admiration and love.

All those thoughts encouraged her to keep going in the dark. The moment of ending her agony, her pain… was coming, and she longed for its release.

It looked like the ending of the passage was not too far, as she could already see the great lake from the distance. When her steps reached the shore, she just stared in horror. What had they done to his home? Everything looked destroyed; the fabulous organ that had presided over the main hall was practically lifeless, reduced to splinters. She could picture him still, in the night she had woken up in that scenario. She remembered his thoughtful look as he held the quill with which he was writing his master piece.

The rest of the room was unrecognizable. It remained absolutely nothing. She looked around again. He hadn't deserved that ruin and that invasion of his privacy. He had never deserved it! How could they have shattered his sanctuary, his music, his world…

She covered her mouth with a white shaking hand, trying to strangle a scream and swallow her tears.

She needed to put an end to that horror, in the quickest way, it did not matter which, because her body could not sustain her anymore…

She made the effort to clear her mind and looked around her. She needed pebbles, lots of pebbles… They had to be heavy but large enough to fit in the pockets of the coat that covered her thin dress.


	35. Chapter 35

Her body was nearing the lake. She was watching thoughtfully the large pool of water before her eyes, still full of fresh tears. She could feel the weight of the pebbles she had put inside her pockets. She knew what she had to do and she was not scared… Curiously, her mind was not invaded by alarmed and reasonable thoughts of backing out.

Her steps brought her nearer to the shore and the coolness of the waters of that lake. A last glance, a last breath and a new life, LIFE, would welcome her in the other side.

Only silence and quietness inhabited the place that only months before had been so full of music, soft and delicate notes entwined with their voices. She closed her eyes and her right foot began getting soaked as she walked forward…

That was not her ending, no. It was her beginning, her rebirth…

* * *

She came into her apartment as night fell over Paris. He had let slip that she should wear the dress… Ah, she was getting more and more intrigued with his secretive attitude, and, of course, he had never said anything about what he had planned for them. But she did not mind. In fact, there had been a long time since she had felt that happy and she did not want to sully that happiness with silly worries. 

Bursting with joy, she took the dress out of her small wardrobe. She couldn't imagine what that night had in store for her…for them, but she was sure it would be something wonderful, unforgettable.

Ten minutes afterwards she was already leaving her room, smarter than usual.

She could feel water ascending up her height, reaching the level of her knees and soaking the skirt of her dress wet. She had the blind conviction that she would reach her objective very soon. Then, her soul would be allowed to soar at last and for all eternity. Her body was shivering and her teeth chattered with the change in temperature. Her muscles contracted spasmodically with every wave of freezing water that met her skin and would take, together with her corpse, the end of an era.

Water covered her waist after a few steps and it was starting to climb up her back, dampening some of the curls of her long black hair.

Her final rest was coming,

_Come to me, don't look back, you are safe now… _

She could listen to his gentle voice so clearly.

_Soon…_

It was the last thing she said to herself before she sunk completely into the peaceful waters.

She found herself down there once more. Seeing the room only lit by candle-light increased her excitement. There he was, in front of her, just behind the table. She did not know why but his presence looked more impressive, mysterious and elegant than ever. Watching him carefully, candlelight reflected itself on his face, giving him an intriguing air that bordered an unresisting sensuality. He was holding a glass of wine in his hand with an expression that suggested that he was aware that she had not stopped assessing and examining him since she had come through the door.

'Dear…', his relaxed and deep voice blocked all of Angie's senses. 'I'm glad to see it hasn't taken too long to you finishing off the chores for today'.

She nodded. 'It's not like everyday one has a chance like this, don't you think?'. She did not allow her shyness falter this time.

'True…', he came near her and stroked her cheek softly. 'Please, have a seat. I'd like to have a word with you', Erik smiled. 'Do you fancy a drink?'.

As if he was tempting her, Erik gave a sip to his glass. It was such a deliberately slow and graceful gesture that she felt that strange warmth go through her body again. How was it possible to be seduced by such a simple action?

She sat down, trying to hide the load of contradictory feelings she was experiencing at the moment. 'Something refreshing would be great, Erik, thank you'.

He nodded, leaving his glass on the table,and went to the kitchen for a brief moment. After a few minutes, he returned to the dining-room and offered her the glass of lemonade he had filled for her. Then, he served some of the delicious salad he had prepared on the dish which lied before her. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts that she had not even noticed that the table had been set for dinner.

'You shouldn't have taken so much trouble…'. Her voice was tender. She felt flattered yet bad for making him cook for both of them, in spite of the fact that she had not asked him to do so.

He finished serving their meal and looked at her quite seriously, though he wore an amused gesture on his face.

'It's no trouble. I do little more than my designs during the day and…', he paused to look directly into her eyes. 'Be with you'.

There was something in the way he pronounced those words that made her thank God for being sitting because she was sure her legs wouldn't have hold her if she had been standing. She knew that the complicity in his attitude would make her loose control any minute. Angie smiled as he sat down in his chair and helped himself some salad too. He was not too hungry but he had to feed his body with something.

Erik sighed, looking to an indeterminate spot of the room. 'Do you like music, Angeline?'. He posed the question in a nonchalant way, as he picked some of his salad with his fork.

The question took her completely by surprise. She swallowed and turned her gaze to him, who was patiently waiting for an answer. 'Oh…', both her eyebrows raised. 'Well, I never had the opportunity to receive musical education or be part of that world, unfortunately, but…', she smiled, almost blushing. 'The day I saw you playing the violin…I thought…', she forced herself to keep going. 'I thought it was the most beautiful sound I had ever had the pleasure of hearing'.

For some strange reason, this time she did not dare to look at him. She looked away as soon as the confession left her mouth and continued her dinner. Perhaps now she would be reminded of the imprudence of prying on his privacy and listening to his music hiding in a corner.

However, she heard his restrained laughter and that made her search his eyes.

'I'm glad you enjoyed it…', he left the fork for a moment and took his glass again. 'Because I'm sure you'll love the place I'm going to take you tonight'.

He reyes opened wide in amazement. Curiosity kicked in. 'Where do you plan to take me, Erik?'.

He smiled knowingly and held the glass to his lips. 'To the Opéra, dear, to the Opéra'.

He watched her reaction carefully for a second. He would never confess the whole truth but he would give her some (maybe with slight variations) retelling of his past. She looked especially hungry for new experiences and for his company that night.


	36. Chapter 36

Édmond had been running after her, searched for her everywhere but, in the end, he lost track of the girl. He headed for the residence with quick strides, his chest rising and falling rapidly because of his race. 

'Where is she?', Maurice looked unnerved. They had decided going to the residence after the younger man had gone chasing their hostage.

'I swear I've been looking for her everywhere. I've questioned several passer-by but no one has seen her…'.

His partner Jacques's expression became harder. 'Then we'll find her, with or without your help', he looked at Emma and Marie, who stood beside him. 'You've heard me, so you'd better begin showing what you are really capable of, ladies'.

Both women nodded and Édmond accompanied his male-collaborators outside. There were lots of things to think of.

* * *

They were strolling casually along the Parisian streets, the same streets that would lead them to the Opéra Populaire. Night had fallen an hour before and a beautiful crescent moon had risen up above in a starful and clear sky. A gentle breeze, like that which blew in the summer, was playfully moving the girl's hair as she listened attentively to the words of the smiling man who walked arm in arm beside her. 

'Tell me, Erik', curiosity was invading her gradually. 'Why the Opéra? Why tonight?'.

He looked at her kindly. 'Music basically represents my whole universe…', they kept up the pace as he talked. 'And the palace of the opera I'll show you shortly has been meaningful in my life. I have many memories that link me to that place', he sighed. 'Too many memories…'.

She smiled. Erik was opening up his heart to her and that made her happy.

'They are not all bitter, aren't they?'.

He made a pause. No. Definitely, they were not all bitter. In fact, they were all quite satisfying and happy until…that night on the rooftop. The night he saw the person he trusted the most saying that kind of things to no other than Raoul de Chagny. The night he had to endure the scene of her kissing his rival. He tried to restrain the rage that was bubbling up inside him. He couldn't believe that he felt the betrayal as if it was happening right now, that he was relieving the moment when he crossed the thin line that separated good sense and insanity.

He managed to reply at last, stopping in his tracks and gently holding both her shoulders. 'No, dear, not every one of them…'. The pang of sadness that clouded his gaze did not go unnoticed for Angie. 'To tell you the truth, I believed I couldn't have been happier for a brief space of time', his lips curved into a bitter smile. 'But everyone gets the wrong impression of things sometimes, hm?'.

She couldn't have explained what she felt when she heard him say that. How frustrating it must be to believe you are happy and then, have that happiness taken away mercilessly, without the possibility or hope of having it back ever again! For God's sake, what had that man gone through?

She released his arm and practically pulled him into a tight hug. She suspected that particular memory which tormented him had something to do with that place he was going to show her. The realization that he surely was making a great personal effort to satisfy her curiosity only made her hug become fiercer. She wanted to feel him near and whisper silly words of reassurance into his ear. She wished he understood that she would do anything in her power to brighten his future. Damned her, her only desire was to love him entirely and sweep away all his sorrow.

The extent of her impulsive sympathy caught him off guard. Soon he found himself wrapping his own arms around her at the back entrance of the Opéra Populaire. Even if it passed an eternity of time since they first met each other, she would never cease to astonish him.

She drew back just enough to tilt her head and capture his mouth in a kiss, while her small hands rested on his shoulders. The fabric of his coat felt very soft. All of a sudden, without knowing why, she had the disturbing feeling that that would be the last time she would be conceded the pleasure of tasting his lips. Carried away by the fear that had possessed her, she deepened the kiss and clung desperately to his mouth, not wanting to part with it. He did not push her back but slightly covered her body with his cloak as he leant a hand over her slender waist.

Once they broke the kiss, she simply raised her quivering voice just above a whisper which was meant only for his acute hearing. The warmth of his arms and his cloak was still wrapped around her.

'You know you can count on me, Erik… don't you?'.

Of course he knew he could count on her. What he needed to determine was if she could rely on him as well.

He assented and motioned to the door with a tilt of his head. 'We're there', he encircled her shoulders with his arm. 'This entrance always seemed safer to me…'.

And she understood why. For obvious reasons he did not like been seen in public more than necessary and that door was really helpful in that sense.

As soon as they came in, she was impressed with the sight that lied ahead of them. A long dimly-lit passage. She took his hand. That place intimidated her a little bit and yet it made her feel the excitement of a fifteen-year-old who nips off with her boyfriend without her parents' approval and without a real plan. Those thoughts elicited a nervous titter out of her. Erik noticed that she had grasped his hand as if her safety depended on it. He turned to her, not understanding the reason for her change of disposition at first.

'What's the matter, Angie?', he slowed down the speed of his strides and looked at her in the darkness with a worried expression she couldn't have seen. He did not want her to get scared when she had not discovered the really frightening stuff about him and that place yet.

She smiled. 'No, everything is okay. It's just that…this place is…quite impressive'.

Now it was his turn to exhibit an amused gesture. 'I was impressed by its dimensions at first', he half-smiled. 'But, keep up with me. The best is yet to come'.

She felt exasperated but then, she really wanted to see everything he wanted to show her. He would show her his world, his passion and the greatest part of his life…

Meg was coming home. Her delay was due to the soirée she had shared with her old friends of the Opéra Populaire. Though the Opéra had been her home for years, she had not stayed anymore time there after the accident. Every now and then she would meet her fellow mates and they would tell her about the novelties around the great palace, the new alterations that would be finished in a few months and old acquaintances, many of whom had decided to abandon the place very much like the Girys. Christine had left them too. How much she missed her best friend everyday! Anguish oppressed her chest when thoughts of her invaded her mind. The last thing she had known about her was that letter. It had been heart-breaking. Poor Christine had needed her best friend and she had been unable to offer a helping hand. She felt so frustrated. What could she do?

She sighed. She was about to reach the hallway to the apartment block she resided in with her mother when strong arms grabbed her and covered her mouth to muffle her gasp of surprise and the screams that followed it.

'Don't move, little one, and everything will go just fine'.

A man's voice, threatening but gentle at the same time, was heard in the quiet alley.

When they got to the box he knew so well, Angie couldn't come out of her astonishment. Behind the curtains that prevented them from being noticed, the couple watched the great show of music and colour that was being performed on stage.

Erik observed with sincere curiosity her reactions and then eyed approvingly the façade of the auditorium, which had been thoroughly reformed, except for some little unimportant details here and there. That night when passion and desire had flown on stage ended in tragedy, a tragedy that affected even the building it had taken place in.

She couldn't stop listening to the music or get tired of paying attention to the performance. That was really an exquisite feast for the senses. It caressed her ears and soul in the rhythm of a melody composed for an endless list of unique instruments so that every one of them would join their sounds to create the most marvellous of symphonies. It touched her soul so deeply that she felt her gaze blurred with emotion. Now she could understand the love for music that harboured the man that was sitting beside her. It was art in its purest form. And he was, undoubtedly, an artist. It was only logical that he loved all of that.

The piece, unfortunately, finished sooner that she had preferred. Still speechless, she turned to him, who had been watching her closely since the curtains had closed down.

'Did you enjoy the performance?'. Even though he could have easily read the reply on her eyes, he wanted to hear it from her.

'It was…heavenly. I would have never had the opportunity of assisting to an event like this if it hadn't been for you', a wide smile formed in her lips. 'Thank you very much'.

He smiled back, pulling her to him. 'There are still many more surprises awaiting you tonight', he whispered. 'Come with me…'.

Her breathin became quicker when she listened to those words. This time it was him who took hold of her hand in the first place, as he guided her through the long passages. He knew of a shortcut to the place he had planned to take her but he did not want to pass through that mirror again or visit that room. Or feeling again the intoxicatingly sweet smell of fresh flowers he always breathed there. No. Never again. The time of roses, heavenly music, marvellous moments and Christine's presence had come and go…

She tried to scream but the hand that covered her mouth tightly wouldn't allow her. Moving her arms was useless too for the moment. She felt cold and scared. Though she was worried about her well-being as she was torced to follow the man's commands, she couldn't help but think of her mother, of her safety and how much she needed her in that moment. Tears began rolling down her cheeks…

Édmond felt the tension and fear that had awoken in the young woman. 'If you do what you are asked to do, you'll come out unharmed of this, so save your tears for that moment'.

She swallowed slowly. She did not dare to say anything in response. She only knew that it was better to obey her kidnapper's orders.

When they came out of the long dark passage, which had torches on both walls, the sight that lied before his eyes was beyond his imagination. Unfortunately, everything looked destroyed and many of his treasures had been robbed. Only a huge swan-like bed, still covered with fine sheets, and his precious organ remained. Around them, there was a vast lake.

She stared in admiration and with an expression of unspoilt happiness at the same time. 'Was it here, Erik? Was it here where you composed your music during the time you worked at the theatre?'.

Standing there was becoming increasingly unbearable. It was as if, suddenly, all his memories were back all at once. As if she was still next to him, captivated by his song, seduced, marvelled under the spell he had mastered the best: his voice.

'Yes…', he tried to sound calm but his upset was clearly written on his face. 'It was like a home to me for a long time…'.

He plucked up courage and took some steps forwards, Angie coming close behind him. The nearer they came to the lake and to the place where his ruined organ was placed, the clearer he saw that someone was lying on the other shore. His glare was fixed in the female silhouette that looked so still, lifeless even.

_It couldn't be…_

_It simply was not possible…_

_It was…_

_Christine._

With a wave of his arm, he motioned to Angie not to follow him. His despair grew with every second. His heart shrank with every step forward. He had to make sure he was not hallucinating, he had to check that it was not her the person lying on the cold stone.

Soon he was next to her body. He paled when he examined it with the detachment of a physician. Her wrists were bruised, her hands showed fresh scratches and fingertip marks. However, her damned lovely face wore a peaceful and sweet expression…

_Even in death… _

He could not stand it anymore. He fell on his knees next to her prone body while a river of tears ran down both his cheeks. But what had happened to her? Why, why on earth, had she ended down there? His hands took hold of hers, which were calmly resting on her belly. She was so cold. He tried warming up her skin by rubbing it with gentle strokes, in vain.

'Christine…Why?'. Those were the only words he could work out in spite of the uncontrollable weeping. His tearful eyes caressed her figure adoringly. That's when he noticed something. Her clothes were wet. He delicately let go of her hands and registered the pockets of her drenched coat. There he found some incriminatingly heavy pebbles. What had she done? The new discovery only made his grief become overwhelming…

Angie was extremely alarmed and it did not take too much thought to disobey Erik's orders. She came to stand beside him.

She leant a hand on his shoulder, crouching down to his level. 'What happens, Erik? Who...?'.

Her questions were interrupted by she herself saw before her eyes. A young woman, possibly around her age or maybe a little older, was lying on the shore. Soaked, in fact. Her long curly hair was splayed over the lake's waters and water was still dripping from her long lashes. Even in her condition, she was truthfully a very beautiful woman.

Watching her closely she realized something else.

The girl that was lying before her was the same that appeared in Erik's portrait.


	37. Chapter 37

Two days and two nights had gone by. Two days and two nights in which Christine had not regained consciousness. She was alive, though. He had known that as soon as he had swept her cold lifeless body off the floor and in his arms. It was when he took hold of her slender wrists when he noticed the weak, nearly nonexistent, beating of her pulse. That was enough to give him hope and to brighten him up. She was not dead. He couldn't have borne that she had died under such circumstances. No, that kind of ending was not one reserved to someone like her. Muses did not die that way…

He had spent that night next to her bed, watching over her and fearing that her situation worsened. He hadn't had the time or the strength to give Angie a proper explanation, in spite of the fact that she had kept a respectful silence during the journey home, while he had carried Christine's body wrapped in his cloak. The cold temperature of the waters of the underground lake had probable made her come into a state of shock. He had never expected to see her again and yet, for some unknown reason, she had reappeared into his life just when he had managed to reconcile with the idea of living without her. There she was. Like a signal, it seemed as if she had been calling up to him, her rescuer, for a long time. He hated her for taking him for granted but, deep down in some part of his heart, he was eternally grateful for that too. That was the same part of his heart which tried not to disguise his love as false hatred and resentment, the part of him that still loved her and had made him cry over her lifeless body on the shore.

He sighed, changing position in the chair he was occupying. His hand shot to his neck, which cracked with the movement. He had fallen sleep for a brief space of time in that uncomfortable chair but his body was already paying for his mistake. He had the urge to hold one of her hands, which were lying at her sides, but regretted his impulse just when a gap of a few centimetres separated her skin from his caress. He was afraid of touching her, as if that would only make things worse for her. She looked extremely pale, though better than the previous days. The fact that Christine had not woken up in all that time made him wander how she had sunk so fast in that kind of comatose state.

And he did not know whether she would ever come round or not…

He bowed his head and covered his face with both hands, drowning a sob. Now, in front of her, his weakness became evident. Fear of loosing her invaded him with every moment. He had tried in every way keeping as cold and impassive as possible but, how could he keep up that façade when he had to witness that she was bordering the fragile line between life and death?

His hands were still covering his masked face but tears of despair rained innocently on the sheets of her bed.

When she listened to the quiet weeping, Angie came to stand behind the door to their guest's room. She opened it just enough for her to see him. She could not recognize the man that had knelt and cried over that woman's body in that place, the man that was showing his weakness once more unashamedly. Broken. Desperate. Crying like never before… It was obvious that she was someone special to him, that she had formed part of his life. Why did she suddenly feel the wave of jealousy taking over her heart? Why did she feel as if she was beginning to loose him? No. She was a part of his past. The fact that he had kept her portrait in a forgotten room told her the truth, did it not? All of a sudden she felt insecure. Besides, he had not requested her presence in two whole days and that only confirmed her doubts.

But she could not stand seeing him like that. The sound of his sobs was breaking her heart in two, and she did not bear it. If there was something she wanted was not seeing him suffering. Silently and trying to be unnoticed, she came to stand before him. As soon as she was beside him, she rested her hand on his shoulder, supportively. He turned to look at her for a moment but it was enough to get drown in so much sadness.

She said nothing. Angie cupped his left cheek, trying to wash away all his tears. Then she did the same over the masked side of his face. She wished to take away all his sorrow, tell him that everything would be all right, even if he was crying for another woman…

His hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her intentions. 'No…not in front of her', his voice sounded completely broken.

She looked directly into his eyes. Her expression was calm and understanding. 'Okay…', her tone was soft and reassuring. 'Erik, you've been up for two days. You need rest…Perhaps it would be better if you went to bed...'.

He let go of her hand and turned his haunted gaze to Christine. Somehow he had gradually recovered his composure. 'Thank you for your concern, Angeline, but I can live long without sleeping'.

She nodded. 'Are you sure? I can stay here, watch over her and call you if… she awakes'.

He hesitated. 'Christine, her name's Christine de Chagny'. The reminder of her married name left a bitter tinge to his last words.

Christine! Of course, that was the name she had heard him whisper when he was kneeling next to her body. Then she remembered that tense moment when she had found him sitting in front of the mirror, which was shattered in a fit of rage and self-hatred. She had not been there to ease his pain and heal his wounds. It had been herself, not that woman for whom he harboured such pity. In some ways she was already feeling a kind of rage towards that angel-faced intruder.

'So…'. Those words of resignation came out of her throat. 'Then you'd prefer if I left?'.

He looked at her approvingly. 'Please…'.

She was already walking to the door, her pride twisting and turning within her. 'All right. I'll be back in a while, maybe you'd like a cup of tea then. For the time being, you know where to find me if you need anything else'.

He stood up and, after offering her a polite gesture, he walked up to the window. He wouldn't leave that room until she woke up.

* * *

The room was completely dark. She was scared, very scared and shivering. The man that had taken her there had treated her better than one would believe from a kidnapper, to her surprise. But the two men and the two women who had received her in that place were in the opposite side of the spectrum. The two strangers had immediately looked her in that bedroom, where she had spent two days. 

For what she had been able to catch from the few conversations that had taken place there, one of the men was called Édmond. Unfortunately, she hadn't heard anything else. She really wasn't unattended. The biggest complain she had so far was the lack of sunlight and the brusque attitude of those people. That man, however, was the only that showed any concern for her health and was in charge of bringing her food and water. Clearly those were not feasts but he gave her enough to survive through the days. Perhaps that strange kindness favoured everyone's convenience. They possibly wanted to keep her alive for the moment… but, what would become of her afterwards?

She heard the door opening and her body tensed. The same people who had locked her in there were again in front of her.

'Well, dear, I believe it's time for us to have serious chat with you…'. Maurice's cold voice echoed in the empty room.

For more than an hour, he had been pacing restlessly from the chair he had been occupying to the window. He did not cease to watch over her, though, hoping to observe any reaction on her part. But watching her would obviously not make her wake up, even if he insisted on it.

Tiredly, he lent on the wall, releasing a small groan of frustration. Angie chose that moment to come into the room with a cup of tea in hand.

'This would do you good…', she came near, brushing his arm as she left the cup on the table.

He took the cup immediately and gave a grateful look to the woman that never once had left his side.

It was then when a small hand began moving, searching for a familiar touch. A set of large hazel eyes lazily opened up. She looked at the ceiling, confused. She did not recognize the place. Slowly, she tossed between the sheets and managed to sit up. When she looked to her right she believed that she had arrived in Heaven at last. Yes, she had achieved her goal. She had died and gained her reward. It was Erik. He was sipping some tea with closed-eye exhaustion. Beside him there was a young girl. Who was she? She seemed quite close to him…

That was precisely what brought her to reality.

She tried to call him…

But no sound ever left her throat.


	38. Chapter 38

'Mademoiselle Giry', Emma came closer and addressed her in an amicable way. 'Just answer to our questions and everything will go smoothly. You'll get out of here safe and sound'.

She did not believe that. Absolutely nothing those people might say was to be trusted in from then on. She would have to face the situation, answer and pray God that, in the end, they'd let her go.

She gave a short bow in assent and waited for the rest of the criminals to begin the interrogation.

'It's come to our notice that you were friends with Christine de Changy…or Daaé, for that was apparently her maiden name…', Édmond was trying to calm down her visible anxiety with his natural courtesy.

She eyed him with timid blue eyes and nodded.

'Good, good…', he changed of strategy very soon and his questioning became cleverer. He waited patiently each and every one of her replies. 'And what was the last thing you knew of her?'.

A knot formed in her throat. Should she say the truth? She felt that, somehow, she would be betraying her friend's trust if she did so. She'd give an answer, yes, but she'd only revealed part of what she really knew.

'The last news I had from her',she swallowed, 'were that she was a married woman and lived peacefully. I did not know anymore about Christine until I read the announcement of the Viscount's death. From then on, she's been missing. I know nothing of her whereabouts'.

'But you have been best friends for a long time, at least that's what she clearly stated in the letter that came into our hands'.

The letter. Her mother had told her about the two people that had visited her so unexpectedly. But it looked like everyone knew about the contents of Christine's desperate missive and echoes them. She feared for Christine's life but she would not make it easier for those criminals since they were all so interested in getting their hands on her.

'Yes'. A strength she had not possessed a few minutes before had strangely taken over her. 'In fact, she has always been and still is my best friend. We lived together for years in the Opéra Populaire but because of…'. She froze. No. Don't say it. Don't mention what happened or the people involved. 'Because of certain circumstances and her engagement to the Viscount, she decided to leave us and move to a village in the outskirts of Paris. I visited her once in her new home but after that evening I've not received further news from her, Monsieur'.

Édmond smiled. Little by little he was getting what he really wanted. 'I see… Look, the disappearance of a Viscountess is not at all that easy and there are many people worried about her right now. Can't you make an effort and guess where she might have gone?'.

She shook her head. She seemed to have calmed down or at least that was until Jacques rough voice interrupted the silence.

'Édmond, I think it would be best if I spoke with the lady…'.

* * *

His heart skipped a beat when his eyes turned to the bed once more. There she was, conscious and sitting bolt upright. She seemed to have noticed that, shamefully, she was wearing nothing but her corset and modesty had made her pull the sheets up to her chin. However, her eyes were fixed in his as they both tried hard to assimilate that they were again in front of each other. 

The expression Angie saw in his eyes made her feel the most painful pang she had experienced in her life. In all the time they had been together, never once, not even in their most intimate moments, he had looked at her in the way he was looking at that girl. She felt as if an iron fist was oppressing her chest to the point that breathing seemed impossible to her. She bowed her head when tears began to form under her eyelids.

Erik finally came to his senses and closer to her. What he really wanted was to cradle her into his arms and confess the hell he had gone through when he had thought that he would loose her forever. But no. Again, the cold side of him won his inner fight.

'Madame…', he gave her a half-hearted smile, hiding his real joy. 'I see you've finally woken up'.

She tried to speak again, doping she had regained her voice, but it was useless. God, everything was looking more and more like her worst nightmare come true. Did he hate her? Had he ended up abhorring her? Her sorrow reflected immediately on her gaze, as her insides screamed out how sorry they were.

'You'd better not force your throat. The cold temperatures might have damaged your vocal chords'. He sat again in his chair.

She just nodded in compliance, despite the hurt brought by his indifference. Christine sent a questioning look towards the small coppery-haired woman.

'Angie…', he called her. She came as soon as she heard him, suppressing her pain. 'She's been helping through all this time. She's my assistant'.

Christine offered her a kind gesture. However, she couldn't correspond in the same way. Assistant? How could he insult her like that? Her suffering continued its rise…

He turned to Angie. 'Dear, would you be so kind so as to prepare a warm bath for our lady guest? She must be still in shock due to the coldness of the water'.

Resigned, she nodded and retired from the bedroom. Once outside, Erik's eyes fixed in Christine's. For a few minutes, their gazes were glued to each other. She could not help it. Her eyes turned glassy under his stare and instinctively, she threw herself into his arms with such desperation that he nearly lost his balance.

At the moment, he did not know what to do or how to react when he felt her arms wrapped up around his neck and the moist trail of her tears as she silently cried.

Jacques came to stand dangerously close to Meg. He pulled her up abruptly.

'Stop playing the idiot with us, do you understand?', his grey eyes riveted in her scared ones. 'And now, tell us, where the devil is Christine de Chagny?'.

She swallowed. Her body was trembling violently. 'I'm telling you', her voice barely raised between her sobs. 'I swear I don't know. Monsieur, please, let me go…'.

Édmond intervened.

'Jacques, the girl is useless to us. I think she is telling the truth. If she had known any valuable information she would have shared it with us by now. We've kept her for too long. Free her…'.

He breathed out sharply and held a hand to his brow, exasperated.

'All right. We don't need her. Emma, Marie, show her the way out'.

Both women carried out his order, taking one of the girl's arms each.

'You'd better not tell anything, little one'.

Meg did not say a word. She started running as the door closed behind her. She wanted to get home as soon as possible. She needed her mother more than ever.

Madame Giry had just got her apartment. She was visibly distressed and was wiping away her tears. She sat down in the armchair of the living-room. She had been searching for her daughter everywhere for two long days, unsuccessfully. She feared the worst. Her daughter had been taken away from her cruelly. She took one of her hands to the space between her eyebrows, exhaustedly. Just when she was about to stand up and continue her private search, the door opened.

_Her daughter was back, alive but extremely upset: tired eyes, wet face, shivering body. _

'Mother…', the girl rushed into her mother's hug. 'They want to know, they want to know everything'.


	39. Chapter 39

**Hello :)**

Thank you everyone for your reviews and thoughts! It makes me so happy.

Now, enjoy chapters 39-42. I'll add chapter 43 tomorrow ;)

Lovephantom83

* * *

Damned him. Damned him and damned the day she was found. Everything had gone so well and, just for a moment, she believed she was really happy. What a ridiculous idea, wasn't it? Thinking that he could correspond her feelings or at least that he was beginning to reciprocate them… 

And all because of that angelic face, even though, to be sincere, deep down she had nothing personal to reproach her. She was even beginning to understand the reason why he had looked at her in the way he did, the reason why he had painted her portrait and she could imagine very well how they might have had a romance in the past. Christine possessed practically everything she seemed to lack of: an ethereal beauty, sweetness, gentleness and she probably had some special talent to top it all.

Still, somehow, she wanted to believe that She was nothing but part of a time that had passed for both of them. She simply couldn't bring herself to accept that someone who had arrived all of a sudden could shatter her newly started dream. She loved him!

Ah, all of that would only make her sink faster and deeper in her despair. As a lonely tear rolled down her cheek, she left the house. She had things to do, things he had ordered her to do, of course. Things for their beautiful guest.

* * *

'We won't get absolutely anything at this pace', Maurice sighed in exasperation. 'In the precious time we have wasted interviewing that girl, our objective could very well be in the other end of France by now, damn it!'. 

'It was useless, anyway', Jacques turned his attention to his partner. 'That girl was shaking like a leaf and besides, she knew absolutely nothing that might have helped us'.

Édmond nodded. The truth was that things were going out of their hands. As more days passed by without finding her, their aims- his aims- looked harder and harder to achieve. It was not a question of getting his hands on a great family fortune or a title anymore, but to claim what was rightfully his. His place in the world and his true origins. He had found one of the best ways to obtain that and, taking into account that they had rejected his civilized demands, he had been forced to resort to drastic measures.

When he looked away, his gaze crossed with a familiar face again. The small girl seemed to walk all the streets of Paris very often.

_And he might have found his source of information at last. _

She was perfect for the job. Slightly lifting his hat in a gesture of greetings, he smiled at her and retired with the rest of the gang.

* * *

The girl had been really kind to her. Her body still felt sore and weak. She had helped her to get out of bed very gently. When she had left her in the bathroom, the girl had given her a hand to undo the ties of her corset, making it easier for her to undress. Then, she retired. Christine reckoned that she had heard Erik speaking to the girl. By what little she had seen when the two of them where together, she had guessed that there was quite a lot of trust between them and something else that escaped her. Complicity, perhaps? 

She let the unconfortable corset slip down her body and onto the floor and submerged in the delightful warm water mixed with scented oils. She leant her head back and got lost in the smell of roses, which fused perfectly well with the ascending columns of vapour. She remembered how conforting the hug they had shared moments before had been. How she had longed for his arms through all that time.

The marvellous sensation disappeared and her mind turned to Erik again.

Had he forgotten her in all that time and was that girl the focus of his attentions, her replacement, now?


	40. Chapter 40

While he was heading to the bureau, his mind would not stop turning all his thoughts to her and the fact that they had met again. Once more all his schemes were broken. Just when he had begun getting out of the long shadow of her memory, when he had started thinking that perhaps a change and forgetting were the best option…

Now, more than ever, he knew that that was wrong, that he had been living the lies he had forged for himself, to ease his own pain. He knew it from the moment he saw her on the lake shore, when he spilt all those tears for her. But it was the moment when he saw her awake in front of him what really opened his eyes: her supplicant eyes, her rapid breathing and…he could swear that her whole face had lightened as soon as she saw him.

Of course, that had been an expression of relief, for she knew that she would be safe there. Always looking for the best shelter she could find… It was the same old story, even though that hug had meant exactly the opposite. He had been able to feel the strength of her embrace and her silent tears sliding down the collar of his shirt. No. He would not put his hopes so high again. Yes, she surely had lots of things to tell him but the water had taken away her voice and, sincerely, that made it easier to keep the distances, which was best at the moment. The further they were from each other, the lesser occasions they met, the better.

With determined steps, he rang the bureau's bell. He had left Angie in charge of Christine's necessities, and things would remain like that for the time being.

* * *

The bags she carried barely fitted in her arms. She had always had errands to run but never like that day. She came out of the store, as best as she could, but her full hands nearly made her lose her balance… 

Suddenly she felt a friendly hand reaching for one of the bags that were about to fall noisily to the floor.

'It seems that this is not our best day, hm?', Édmond was looking at her with an affable expression.

'No', she smiled. 'It is not, definitely…', she took the bag again. 'Thanks, monsieur'.

He laughed. 'After all the times we've met lately, I think it'd better to introduce to each other, don't you think?', Édmond held out his hand.

She looked at him again and offered her hand too, timidly. 'Angeline…'.

He took her hand for a moment, releasing it after a few seconds. When he noticed that one of her bags was about to fall again, he reached it and grasped it firmly. When she tried to object, he stopped her by moving away her outstretched hand.

'Please, let me help you. Oh, you don't mind if I skip the formalities, do you?'. She gave a short nod. 'Fantastic…'. He continued after a brief pause. 'You have a very beautiful name. I'm glad that I can refer to the woman I've crossed paths with so many times with a name and an identity'.

She laughed slightly. 'So do I, Édmond', she looked around, nervously. 'I must get back. I hope we'll meet again soon…'.

She was already leaving when she heard him speak. 'It's been a pleasure speaking to you. And, if you don't mind, I'd be delighted to invite you to have breakfast with me tomorrow'.

She assented and headed home. Their conversation had been quite pleasant, strangely so that she felt as if…

As if she had been talking to a close relative or a family friend.

* * *

After an hour she abandoned the bath, wrapping a towel around her form. It had been so long since the last time she had felt so good that time had slipped away. 

She couldn't believe her eyes when she came into the room she had been staying for the long time she had been unconscious. On top of the bed there was a fine beige nightgown, simple in spite of the discreet brocades and lace that decorated its neckline. Next to the nightgown there was also a matching robe and three dresses extended over the duvet. One of them was blue, with a nice white stripe sewn all the way down the ties that adjusted the bodice. The second dress was salmon pink, a bit plainer than the first one but with the same air of elegance. The last dress was black, gravely sober.

It had been his idea, she had no doubt of that. He had always liked going ahead of events, and he knew very well that she had not carried more clothes with her than her ruined dress. He was so attentive with her…and she had never realized it until perhaps now, when it was too late. Anyway, that gesture on his part suggested that, at least, he still wanted to look after her. She smiled to herself. She'd let him know how much she appreciated it the next time he decided to check on her.

'Did you enjoy your bath, Christine?'.

She turned and found Angie waiting at her door, a small polite smile drawn in her lips. Christine nodded and the other girl retired again so that she could get changed in private.

* * *

He entered his apartment. In spite of the fact that he'd possibly find out all the information he needed very soon, he was feeling terrible crossed. With a sigh, he sat down in an armchair, analyzing once more which his priorities were… 

Any other person in his place would have shot the young Viscountess without second thoughts, instead of providing accommodation for her.

But no, his real intentions did not include killing her… Through all the time he had had her in his home, he had learnt to feel sorry for her sorrow and the terrible situation she was involved in. A young girl, a chorus girl who had become France's most gifted voice overnight and, all of a sudden, had found herself trapped in a world that was too large for her. Surrounded of luxuries, rich people and… he could imagine the De Chagny's reaction when Raoul visited them arm in arm with his bride-to-be. How horrible and disgraceful for them not having a damsel of noble lineage in the family! Poor girl, for all the scorn and murderous looks she must have endured… and now she was probably lost in God only knows where.

He stood up and a strange kind of anger started to bubble up within him, without knowing the reason why. He helped himself a glass of brandy. When he sat down again, his blue eyes opened wide in surprise.

It could not be…

Was he beginning to harbour feelings for her?

Impossible.

He sipped his brandy and put the glass on the wooden table with a loud bump.

* * *

She was already going through the entrance door of the hostel, when she found a familiar silhouette in front of her. 

'Erik…'.

He half-smiled. 'I'm glad to see you again, Angeline. Did you do what I asked you to? I'm really sorry that we have barely talked to each other lately… I reckon our new guest is taking too much time from both of us'.

And she is taking you away from me too. That was what her mind wanted to scream at the moment.

'I know…', her tone sounded cold even to her, though it had not been her intention. 'Yes, everything's ready. I picked up your orders just an hour ago', they locked gazes for a moment. 'Well, I must go now…'.

Before she left, he held her chin delicately.

'Thank you'

She sighed, letting him be the one to retire his hand. 'Do not mention it'.

With this, her steps carried her away and he headed home.

* * *

Christine had taken advantage of her solitude to memorize the place she had been installed in. She peeked in all the rooms. Most of them looked as if they were not used, from the dusty furniture, except for the room right next to hers. It was gently inviting her to come inside. 

And so she did but, first, Christine gave a last look to her room, as if she was watching it for the first time. Everything looked clean and perfectly in order. The bed felt extremely comfortable and her new clothes had been taken there by Angie herself. She came out of the room, thinking that she would have all the time to enjoy it.

Another door caught her attention. She opened it. All the objects stored inside were known to her. The music box, her portrait and, for God's sake, he still kept the scores. His great masterpiece, though, had unfortunately been destroyed in the fire, together with his whole world. Before the deep feeling of sadness and nostalgia could take over her, she came out of the room as quickly as she had entered.

Her steps carried her to the living room. Two armchairs, a fireplace, a round table, a desk, which she supposed was Erik's…and a piano. So…he had not abandoned music, she thought as she came near the instrument. She was sitting down in the bench when she noticed that there was a sheet of paper on the little table next to it. She took it and then walked to his desk, to borrow a quill.

She sat down again and began writing.

'Thank you again for making me feel at home from the first day. The dresses and gowns are really beautiful'.

It was very simple but it was all she needed to express her gratitude for such an attentive treatment. Of course it was not all she wanted to tell him. There were lots of things she wished to let him know but she preferred to tell him so with her own voice and not through words written in cold paper. Two tears escaped her eyes as she left the paper, folded in two, on the piano…

What she did not know was that someone had been observing her from a hidden corner of the living room all the time.


	41. Chapter 41

He watched her more carefully a few more minutes. The blue dress he had bought for her fitted her like a glove, reflecting once more the cleverness of his choices. Even at that distance, he could smell roses in the air, the scented oil he had chosen flooding his senses.

He had noticed the tears that had escaped from the corner of her eyes but he beated the impulse of rushing to consol her. He had to make the effort…

'I'd love to read the contents of that note, Madame'. His voice was soft yet distant.

Christine stood up, quite startled and, at the same time, ashamed of being caught in that situation. She managed to recover her composture and, taking the note she had written five minutes before, she came to stand before him and handed it over to him. Erik looked at her and took the paper she had extended without further ado.

He unfolded the paper and read it thoroughly. The short but tender letter turned out to be quite amusing too.

He sighed, laughing slightly. 'There's no need to thank me for anything, dear. A damsel in distress must be well looked after. I'm glad the dresses are to your liking…' his tone had become ironic. 'though I'm sure they cannot compare to the elegance and luxuries your husband provided you, don't you think?'

In a moment, fury had started to build up inside her. She had written to him with all the honesty and feeling she possessed, and he just treated it as a joke. He had even dared to mention Raoul. A part of her did understand the harshness of his attitude but she couldn't help feeling a stab of pain with every one of his reproaching words. She closed her hands into fists, frustrated. She could not reply or tell him how wrong he was. Nothing…

The way in which she glared at him let him know clearly that his words had pained her greatly. She walked towards the main door, ready to abandon the house. She wanted to leave. Go for a stroll. Perhaps that would make her feel less exasperated than what she already was. Ah, but going alone was terribly dangerous. She was being persecuted and should not take risks.

Of course he had noticed the suffering caused by his ruthless answer. For a moment he hated himself for hurting her so cruelly but what could he do? What was she expecting? She should have prepared herself for something like that. She could not expect a grateful man, welcoming her with open arms, ready to forget and devote to herself while she stepped over his dignity.

He took her hand with the stupid excuse of giving her the note back. He had forgotten completely the sensations evoked by her touch all over his body. For a few seconds, their eyes remained frozen. Christine could have sworn that the Erik she had known so many months ago was still somewhere in those green eyes. However, that was only until he forced himself to turn away his gaze.

'A walk would do you good, just…wait for Angie. She'll be here shortly'. At this, he broke the contact of their hands and retired to the other end of his apartment.

She did not understand…

All the mixture of sweet moments and bitterness was oppressing her chest, almost suffocating her. She sat down in the armchair with her heart on one hand, the note on the other and thousands of confused thoughts.

* * *

The following day began in a calmed way. The first rays of sunlight appeared shyly at nine o'clock and Angie was ready to leave. Quickly, she disappeared of the not too roomy entrance of the hostel with her bag and headed to the centre of the town. 

She had an invitation to have breakfast she could not turn out, and she needed to speak to someone friendly more than ever. Erik's recently acquired attitude annoyed her more and more each passing day. He had become another person, indifferent and passive, that only talked to her when there was some errand to run. And that was all Christine's fault.

What she really found strange and what got to her nerves at the same time was that, after the walk they had shared, she was starting to feel that her presence was in fact pleasant. She had even started admiring her. Her natural calmness, her kindness and sweetness… and her apparently perfect disposition in everything she did.

She was arriving to the nearest cafeteria. Édmond had a newspaper in his hands and a cup of coffee on the table he was occupying. When he lifted his gaze to the entrance door, he greeted her warmly and invited her to have a seat in front of him.

* * *

He left his designs for a moment. Despite of the early hour, he felt like putting forward some of the projects he had in mind but there was something else bugging his mind.

Immediately, he started writing. He wondered if they were still in the same old apartment but he had to try. They were probably worried.

He smiled. For all Heavens, how long had passed since the last time he had wrote a letter?

* * *

They were both enjoying a pleasant breakfast at the same time that he began satisfying his curiosity for the girl. 

'Tell me, Angeline, how is it that I always see you walking about in the streets so very often? Your job must be exhausting, without a doubt'. He sipped his coffee while waiting for her to swallow another bite of her croissant.

'Well, the truth is that it is. Exhausting, I mean, though at first I did not consider it to be like that in the least. I work for a…', hesitation flashed briefly through her gaze. 'For an important artist that has settled here very recently. I deal with many of his errands, as well as take care of his house. And that's become specially…tiring as of late.'

_Tiring and painful, too. _

He was becoming interested in what he was hearing. 'Oh. I think I might understand what you mean. A kind of job like that must not be easy to carry out. But it seems that it was easier to cope with it in the past... What is it that makes your chores so tough and tedious now?'

She paused for a moment, gave a sip to her own coffee and looked directly into his eyes. 'The recent return of somebody in the life of someone who's very dear to me'

He watched her in surprise, dropping his cup slowly upon the table…

That was working well...

* * *

He got up from his desk. He would come back to his designs later on, for now he needed to clear his head. He had spent more than an hour focusing on the plans and he felt that if he kept on with that much longer, his mind would end up exploding. 

He walked to the part of the apartment destined to the bedrooms and noticed that her bedroom door was ajar. He came in quietly and found a very familiar scene before his eyes. Christine had fallen asleep, with her head lolling back and a book between her hands.

Erik came closer to the armchair and took the book with utmost care, leaving it on the bedside table. Then, he looked at her bed and reached for one of the cushions on it. Trying his best not to wake her, he tilted her head so that he could place the cushion bellow, so that she would not suffer a serious neckache afterwards.

He observed her peaceful expression, her even breathing…

_Lord. He loved her. He loved her and could not do anything to prevent it. _

However, he would not let her know yet.

He stroked her cheek for a short moment… the caress lasted just long enough for his fingers to brush slightly her skin.

'Rest, Christine...', he said in a barely audible whisper.

What he could not see when he was leaving her chamber was the smile that had formed in her face or the small sigh she emitted before giving into deep sleep again.

He did not sense that Angie had witnessed the whole scene, either, and that she rushed to the living room soon after him.


	42. Chapter 42

His steps carried him to the living room with the inicial intention of returning to his designs.

'You still love her, don't you?'. Her words fell like a slab on him, making him turn around on his heels so that he could face her.

'Still?', his tone was gradually rising in anger. 'What do you mean by that, Angie?'.

She let out an ironic laugh. 'Who do you take me for, Erik? Did you really believe that I was not clever enough to figure things out? Too stupid to notice the way you look at her, to see your real feelings for her and that you cannot leave her in the past?', he stared in astonishment. 'Yes, that evening I found something amongst your belongings...', her voice turned challenging. 'I found a wonderful portrait. It was her, wasn't it? Christine', she came close to him with a small smile gracing her lips. 'Now tell me that it is not true that you love her... Tell me!'.

She was being consummed by rage, frustration and sorrow. She would know the truth in a definite, clear and concise way. It was now or never.

But at the same time that Angie's rage grew within her, Erik's blood was boiling inside of his body with an unexplainable force.

He grabbed both her arms with all his strength. His face scarce milimetres from hers.

'I don't know!', he shook her, her gaze still fixed on his, as any other of the intense moments they had shared before. 'Was that what you wanted to hear! Maybe that might calm down your stupid and childish fit of territoriality!'. She could feel his uneven breathing on her face and the bruises already forming in her arms due to the pressure.

But she was not surprised by that anymore. Neither his fits of rage nor his harsh words coming out as growls nor his violence were new to her. Not in the least.

She exploded. 'And have you ever considered if I have feelings and I'm affected by all of this too!', she shouted and freed herself from his grasp. 'It's clear you have not', she gradually calmed down. 'The world does not revolve around you, just take that into account from now on'.

She left the house with a firey look in her eyes. She would not cry. Not in front of him.

The door slammed close with a deafening bang. Erik breathed in deeply and sat down on the armchair, totally exhausted. He had never seen her act in such a way, not even when she had been furious with him. But, what reasons did she have to be so angry now? Besides, she only reminded him of the first impertinence she committed. If she had not broken the rules he had set, he would not have had to resort to manipulation. It had been her fault, after all.

* * *

'Ladies, I'd like to share this information with you, but if you are clever and want to remain alive, I'd suggest that you would not tell anything about this with our mates. All right?'. 

Emma nodded, a bit confused, while her partner eyed him closely. 'Okay, but Édmond, what's happened?'.

He half-smiled. 'Please, don't be so impatient. Give me some time and I'll assure you I'll have more than interesting information in my power'.

'Such as...?', Marie intervened, curious.

'Such as the exact location of Christine', he laughed when he caught the puzzled look on their faces. 'I'll keep in touch with you. Be seeing you, Mesdames'.

As always, he retired quietly, even though he was in better spirits than the first time he visited the residence. He would not change his friendship to that girl, at least for the moment.

* * *

She closed the door behind her, alter giving a last fearful look outside. Since those people had taken her daughter away, she barely came out anymore, neither to work nor to do any other thing. Those were hard times and they'd have to protect in the best way they could. 

A white envelope on the entrance door came to her as a surprise. After the initial shock, she smiled to herself hopefully…

She knew perfectly well who it was from.

The streetlamp lit the pavement, offering a beautiful view from the apartment's window. In a sitting position, Angie was embracing her legs and looking through the window to nowhere in special. She was just trying to abandon all thought and forget the reason of her outburst.

Yes, she had to recognize that perhaps some of the things she had practically spitted out to his face were rough. Too rough, maybe… but she did not regret any of it because she still felt that the truth lied in those words, beneath the anger.

He was selfish, or at least was behaving like one. Not caring for her feelings, for how much she could be affected by such a scene. She simply could not stand that he looked at her with so much love and affection right under her nose, even if the girl was oblivious and he was unaware of his actions!

The worst of all was that he did not seem to mind in the least. He did not even have the thoughtfulness of acknowledging her presence.

She looked away and saw the discarded blue dress still upon her bed. That dress brought so many good memories that made fury bubble up inside her.

Memories of kisses in the park, of strolls, of caresses… and of the last kiss they shared before the disaster.

'_Damned you, Erik…'._

Those were the last words she pronunced before she threw the glass on her bedside table and began to tear her beautiful dress with the largest crystal shard.

She started bleeding…

It did not matter. Nothing mattered anymore. She did not need the precious memories that simple cloth conjured up.

She returned to her bed, curled up in a ball and shed all the tears she had been holding back.


	43. Chapter 43

**Hi again :)**

**Calibeachbum,Pertie, Regina, phantomforever and darklady **Thank you all very very much:) I can't believe my story is getting so many reviews, it's so awesome. Pertie, yes, he's going to "wake up" at some point.

I won't say anymore.Just enjoy chapters 43-46 ;)

Lovephantom83

* * *

She had not seen him in the few hours she had been around, and sincerely she did not feel like seeing him either. She did not want him to notice neither the cuts or her looks, that betrayed her lack of sleep. 

She continued her chores, for she still had to make some coffee and buy some fresh bread.She leant her forehead against the kitchen wall. She was exhausted...terribly exhausted.

When she turned, she realized that Christine was frozen at the kitchen threshold. Her long hair was dishevelled and her face looked sleepy. The dressing gown he had ordered her to pick up suited her quite nicely.

_Perhaps if she were like her…_

_Even like her in the slightest thing...perhaps that would be enough to get him back... _

She smiled kindly. 'Madame, do me the favour of returning to your room. I was about to carry your breakfast myself'.

She rised a hand, shaking her head, trying to show that it was not necessary. She took a seat in one of the chairs in the small living-room and when she noticed the wounds in Angie's hands, her expression turned to a frown of worry. She pointed at them with one finger questioningly.

'Oh', she feigned indifference. 'Do not worry. It was…a little accident, that's all. Erik will come back in a few hours, I guess... I suppose you don't know but he's found a more than adequate job through all these months'.

_Erik?_

She knew his name, and that was something that someone like him did not give away so easily. There had to be… some level of trust between them for him to reveal his real name. She felt absurdly jealous once more. Why? In moments like that one, like when she had handed him the note, frustration became unbearable.

Her expression relaxed. She should not take things out of their own context. She was being absolutely silly. Thinking that...

_Or not?_

Christine rested her arms upon the table and the other woman, seeing that the tension on her silent companion had diminished, reassumed her chores. A few minutes afterwards, she served Christine her breakfast and came out of the the room as soon as possible.

However, she was not quick enough to avoid him at all, for he was there, outside the kitchen, leaning against the door frame.

'Good morning, Angeline…'.

It was useless speaking to him. In fact, the mere fact of seeing him, pained her greatly at the moment. Only a murmur came out of her throat.

'Good morning'.

She forced herself to start walking again, as if that kind of treatment was routine for them and they had never exchanged more than the short greetings dictated by courtesy and good manners.

_If only that was so simple... _

Before she could walk past him with the only purpose of leaving the apartment, she felt his strong grasp around her wrists. Strong yet delicate, not brusque.

'How did you get this?'.

She found his gaze. Was he worried for her wounds? Possibly not. It was probably one of his many lies, another of the games in which he played with her feelings. Nothing else.

'It's nothing, Erik. It'll heal soon. It was just a domestic accident…'.

She tried to shake off his touch but he just did not want to release her. Instead, he brushed her hand slowly. How could she turn away in moments of bliss like that?

'Those cuts might become infected. Come with me, we must clean those wounds properly'.

She conceded and disappeared alter him in the toilet where she knew he had a cupboard where he kept gauze and other medical supplies. He cleaned her wounds and efficiently bandaged her hands.

He smiled. 'You tended my wounds once before, did you not?'.

She kept looking away, avoiding his eyes. Certainly, she had healed his wounds in one occassion. She had been beside him in one of his hardest moments. He seemed to remember clearly but not valued that at all. Coldness returned to her heart in a cool blow.

'You are right. I thank you for your concern and appreciate your attention but I have lots of things to do'.

Before he could react, she had already came out of his sight.

* * *

In front of the Giry's apartment, Maurice and Jacques were giving a preliminary scan to the area and the house they were keeping an eye on. 

'Maurice, do you still believe that that poor girl lied to us?', he stared doubtfully at his partner.

'I don't know but instinct tells me that this apartment should be watched very closely, as often as possible...'.

'Have you noticed something that might be of our concern?', Jacques kept gazing him with curious eyes.

'Yes, the girl did not mention anything about an older lady living with her… a lady she bears a great resemblance to'. A smirk of triumph formed in the corner of his mouth.

* * *

She found herself again in the town centre. Angie's legs were already used to walking long distances up to the downtown area. She was crossing the park in quick strides, expecting to meet the man who had become a friend to her sitting in one of the benches. 

'I did not doubt in the slightest that I would see you today, dear', he moved to make her room so that she could sit down next to him, still leaving a decent distance between them. 'Come, sit down for a while. I'm sure that you need a break'.

She smiled at him. He was one of the few people that still offered her some kindness now. 'Thank you, Édmond. The truth is that I do really need it'.

His attention turned immediately to her bandaged hands.

'You must have hurt those hands pretty badly. They weren't bandaged when we had breakfast the other day...'.

She sighed. 'I know. I… well, I'd lie to you if I told you it was an accident. It was not exactly like that...'.

He frowned. 'What do you mean, Angeline?'.

She looked at another bench, where a couple was sitting down, smiling to each other. 'Have you… Have you ever done any crazy things, things you would have never dared to do because of...a person you love with all your might seems to be lost to you forever?'. Her eyes became a deep shade of grey as she made her confession.

A thoughtful expression crossed his features.

_Had he ever done that? Was that feeling close to the desire to protect the most wanted person while co-operating with the people who are after her? _

No, those stupid digressions were useless. He did not love her! How was that possible when she represented a part of the family that had turned their back on him, which had refused to concede his only desire?

His subconscious must have been playing a bad joke on him for something like that to cross his mind.

'Well', a small smile was drawn on his lips. 'Love makes us do thousands of things'. In some way he was impressed to see that someone so young as that small woman would consider something like that. 'But…I thought you were too young to be longing for another man?' he chuckled, trying to cheer her up. 'I'm pulling your leg. Tell me, Angie, what's eating you?'

She laughed. 'It's…odd, don't you think? Sometimes, even I pose myself that very question. I also reckon I might be too young to be feeling so much. But, truth is, a heart in love can't be fooled. I think I fell unexplainably in love with someone but then she came and...'

_She…_

Things were turning more and more interesting by the minute again.

'Falling in love with someone is not a sin, dear. It just…happens. It comes suddenly and it's something you can't control or change. And you are not guilty of loving someone, not in the least. But, tell me, I guess there's a third part interfering with your relationship?'

'More or less… though he's the only one to blame, really. He focuses all his attention on her since she came because they used to know each other, and now I've become little Miss Nobody again. It all changed so fast… It seems that her long curls, her charming manners and her beauty have him totally out of his mind, even though he won't admit it'.

She sighed. All of a sudden, she was feeling much lighter, as if she had dropped the heavy weight that had been oppresing her chest. Talking to that man who offered so freely a listening ear, so caring and selfless was like chatting with her best childhood friend.

_Long curls, charming manners, beauty..._

_Was that really a description of the woman he was interested in or was his eagerness deceiving him once more? _

'Well…', he was watching her, a bit saddened. 'To tell you the truth and to give you my most objective view on the subject, and I wish I were wrong, if that woman's so beautiful and lovely as you say and they were acquaintances before...', he lent a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. 'I'm afraid that whatever feelings they had for each other in the past, they may be resurfacing. Just, out of simple curiosity, what's the name of the charming lady we're talking about? I might have heard of her'

She hesitated for a moment but decided to come out with it. 'Christine...'

_Bingo. He had won the Big prize from the beginning and he had been told just by chance. _

Fear started to curl up inside her, right after she revealed the name of their guest. Was she betraying Erik's trust by telling someone, almost a stranger, about her? Well, he had betrayed her, used her and stepped over her own trust in him, over her heart in the way one treated something which was not useful anymore. It was fair play.

'It's been nice talking to you, Édmond, but I believe it's time for me to go...'.

' I understand', he nodded gently 'I hope we meet again soon and… do not hurt yourself again. I wouldn't like to start scolding you'. His lips curled in an amused smirk.

She gave a short nod in response and, as she stood up, she saw something in his long blue coat she had never noticed before.

She knew the small embroidered symbol but could not remember where she had seen it before.

* * *

Her day had been most peaceful. Too peaceful, to be honest. And she could not prevent her thoughts from drifting to him and how much she missed him. He had not returned in two hours and she was growing really tired of pacing in circles in every room of that house, fixing little things here and there. She had even tried to follow her reading, which only reminded her of his kind gesture. Those were the occassions when hope started burning again in her chest. Hope that everything would come back to normal some day, that he would stop hating her and speaking to her in that terrible way that sent shivers of fear and remorse through her. 

She heard the door opening and turned her head towards the sound to find Erik in front of her.

'Have you enjoyed a good day?', his eyes were fixed on hers. Devoid of emotion.

She smiled and nodded slightly. She had to conceal that she could not cope with that situation anymore.

'I'm glad to know that. I understand that things are not exactly entertaining around here but I...I am too busy to keep you occupied. I'll tell Angeline to come with you for a walk later'

She walked to where he was and reached for his arm.

_Good Heavens, she was begging with her eyes that he were the one to go with her..._

'I'm sorry but I fear I have too many things to do. I…can't escort you'.

With that, he shrugged off her arm and retired to his working area.

* * *

Édmond's wise words were true. Really true. She had nothing to do. Somehow, he would always be feeling the same for Christine. In spite of whatever it was she had done in the past, he was still in love with her. 

_And what could she do, apart from resigning? _

No. No. Perhaps it was not too late for her...

Her steps carried her to the toilet and she stood before the mirror, observing her reflection. She untied her hair.

_She would make him notice her again... Yes, she would. _


	44. Chapter 44

It was not until a couple of hours later in the evening when she put in an appearance at Erik's apartment. A smirk imprinted on her lips…

For some strange reason, she could not wait to see his reaction, the look in his eyes when he saw her...

When she came through the door she faced just what she expected to find there. Christine lifted her gaze, which had been focused on the teaspoon she was using to rythmically stir the lemon tea she had been enjoying until then.

'I'm sorry for the delay, Madame…'. She observed with glee the flabbergasted look the other woman was giving her. 'But it was imposible for me to come earlier'.

The woman she had in front of her could not snap out of her astonishment. She wanted to make sure of what her eyes were seeing. She looked at Angeline up and down, analizing her garments.

_No, that was not what had changed in her… _

_It was her hair, untied, which cascaded down her back in soft waves and looked rather similar to her own. _

Hiding her obvious confusion for the sudden change of the girl, she smiled gently and finished her tea so that they could go out for their walk.

In that moment, Erik came out of his room. Christine and Angie stood frozen before him. His expression shifted to one of surprise when he saw the latter: her hair was not tied in a low bun, that was apart from the...

Everything dawned on him. She had waved her straight long hair so that loose curls hung now over her shoulders in a fountain-like way.

_And she had done that on purpose, he had no doubt. _

'I did not think you'd be here', her tone sounded triumphant for she had achieved her objective. 'I imagine you have much to do with your projects, so I'll take Christine for a walk around the town, if that's fine with you, of course'.

He tilted his head, feigning indifference but paying careful attention to every one of her movements. 'There's no objection on my part. It's a nice evening and I'm sure that Madame de Chagny is delighted at the prospect of that promenade'.

It was in those few seconds of tension in which both of them expected the other one to make the next movement in their dangerous chess game when she detected it at last. She had no more doubts about it. There must have been something going on between him and Angie before she came along.

_And yet, she did not know what annoyed her the most, the fact of having realizad it that way or the obvious fact that the girl was trying to copy her looks. _

'Well, then I suppose it would be better if we left now'. She decided to break the unconfortable silence that had fell upon them and walked to the door.

Christine was about to follow Angie's lead, a bit suspicious.

_Why did she feel as if everything had suddently become some kind of competition?_

_

* * *

_Meg was readying herself to go out. Her mother had warned her about the dangers of leaving their home for too long after what had happened only days before.

But the arrival of that note which brought so many good news about her best friend had cheered her up exceedingly. Curiosity had made her ask her mother about the person who had written such a positive message.

The look in her mother's eyes was enough to give her some clue...

The angel of music had, once more, Christine under his wings' protection.

She smiled, reaching the door. It would only be a quick visit, but she wanted to know the place he had chosen as sanctuary this time. She would not dare go beyond the exterior façade.

She needed to know she was safe, though…

* * *

The long walk through the city had been pleasant but it was clear that a new tension had grown between them. Perhaps that action had been too obvious on her part but she couldn't care less. She did not mind letting her know that she had not been the only one to gain Erik's precious trust or even more. 

_If only she had not appeared… _

A small grunt came out of her throat as she hung Christine's coat, now clean and dry, in the closet. Then, she heard the clank of something metallic falling.

She frowned and crouched on the floor to take it. God, it was an expensive ring... quite expensive. She looked in the inside. Would it have an inscription?

_Raoul De Chagny et Christine Daaé_

Along with the spouses' names, there was a date engraved in the gold. She stared at it closely…

The pieces were beginning to fall in the places she had not figured out yet. She had read and heard that name too many times. The Viscount, who had been murdered by revolutioners.

Was the woman they had taken in no less than a Viscountess?

Her mind was filled with memories of the place and circumstances they had found the woman. The portrait, the underground place she had been taken to by him that night...

Those rumours…

_She had finally guessed the identities of both of them. _

Angie put the ring again into the coat's pocket and left.

* * *

The bell rang in the residence quite insistently. Marie rushed to open the door. 

'Sorry for coming without letting you know first', Maurice greeted courteously. 'But we've barely known anything about our mate Édmond lately. It's been days without news of him and more or so since the last time he graced us with information that could help our plans. That is making us a little anxious…'.

Marie lied, shaking her head. 'We haven't received news from him either, unfortunately. I suppose he'll come soon with fresh reports for you... What, why the asking? Has something happened?', she faked concern.

'No', frustration was clearly written on his face. 'It's just that we'd prefer not putting things off more than necessary, that's all'.

'I see. Well, don't worry, if he comes by, we'll keep you informed'.

He watched her with severe eyes. 'You'd better stay truthful to your word. _This_ does not depend only on me'.

He abandoned the house and Marie only exhaled a sigh of relief after closing the door.

* * *

Sitting on a bench, Meg inspected the hostel from afar. It did not look great but good enough for sheltering two fugitives for quite some time. 

She stood and started walking back home. Her absent-mindedness made her bump into someone else without nearly noticing. A young woman with coppery-hair and light eyes was assesing her with curiosity.

'Oh, excuse me...I apologize', she smiled. 'This always happens to me because I'm not looking where I'm going'.

Angie corresponded her politeness. 'Never mind. Mademoiselle, may I help you?'.

Meg hesitated for a moment. She could tell the girl, ask her if she knew... but discarded the idea in the end. Perhaps she would not have a single clue even if she explained everything.

'No, no… I was already on my way. Thanks for the offer, anyway'.

Angie nodded and Meg walked away after seeing her coming into the hostel.

* * *

Midnight was the most peaceful moment in his days. Sitting in his armchair, he leant his head on the backrest, trying to relax. He could feel all his muscles thanking him for that'. 

He had endured too much tension in a very short period of time. And, to top it all, the same question haunted him merciless...

What was Angie trying to do with all that farce? Did she really think that she would be more attractive to him because she now had a hairstyle similar to Hers? She was very wrong if she really believed that the only thing that drew him to Christine was her physical appearance...

He smiled ironically

Poor ingénue…


	45. Chapter 45

She did not meet Édmond in the following three weeks. Fortunately or unfortunately, since that day things had continued the way they had been going till then. The same routine, the obligation of going through that torture every passing day... 

_Didn't he realise that her feelings were screaming, bleeding, dissolving into nothing with the pass of time? _

She was lowering herself again, for she was condemned to fall into the fatality of rejection, the certainty of knowing that her feelings were not reciprocated. It was like that time but now he would not listen to her. He did exactly the opposite.

How many conversations had they had since she had broken into their lives? None. He had closed in himself, treating her like he did back in the beginning of their relationship. Nevertheless, it seemed as if, every now and then, he tried to placate her mood mith a gentle gesture.

_Was it pity? No. She did not want it if that was the case. _

She shook her head sideways. The two only times they had had the chance of speaking to each other, it had been him the one who had searched for her. But, today, the day when she most needed a friendly hand, no one offered it. She kept going through the motions, discarding the possibility of talking to anyone that day.

A comforting hand was rested on her shoulder. Angie turned around, startled.

'Steady on, dear. It's been quite a long time since I last saw you and when I noticed you crossing the street I thought it would be a great idea to return to the little chat we left hanging...', he smiled kindly. 'What do you think?'.

She sighed. He had arrived at the right time. 'Yes, of course...', her lips showed a bitter smile. 'Thanks for being around, Édmond'.

The nearest bench was empty, so they took advantage of the situation and they both had a seat.

'So...tell me, what's got you so lost these past weeks?'.

For a moment she just stared at some point across the busy street. 'Nothing really. It's only that I've got so many things to do lately… though I'm grateful for that, mind you. I guess being occupied has done me good'.

He locked eyes with her. Her eyes had been clouded and misty for days now, in cruel contrast with the wonderful sunny morning everyone around them seemed to be enjoying.

Then, Édmond looked at her hands and took one of them in his. 'They look much better now. However, by the sound of it, I fear that the inner wounds are the ones that remain the same. Am I wrong?'.

_No, on the contrary. The inner cuts were bleeding more profusely than ever. _

She shook her head again, lowering her gaze but letting him see with painful clarity the depth of her suffering she was living.

'Come now, haven't things improved?', he placed an arm around her shoulders in a sympathetic way. 'Listen to me carefully. I might have a solution to your conflict'.

Hope flooded her eyes instantly. 'What…what do you mean? A solution? It was you who told me that…'.

He interrupted her babbling. 'I know but it doesn't mean that you must give it all up. When you spoke to me about that Christine, there was something that clicked in my mind'.

Angie watched him in confusion. 'I don't know what you are talking about, Édmond'.

He laughed. The girl was so mature for some things and yet she conserved that charming halo of innocence around her.

'Let me explain myself. I understand that someone who traipses round the city as much as you do must hear lots of juicy news. Like, for example, that your Christine might be one of the most wanted people in France at the moment'.

She lifted an eyebrow. 'Well, I never wanted to give much credit to the general gossiping. You must know people are too curious and love to invent stories and see ghosts where there are none only to keep their neighbours entertained...', she fell silent, deep in thought. 'Though I saw something that's enough to make me think that this time it might not be only a rumour'.

He eyed her with sincere curiousity. Perhaps that conversation would lead him directly to the only piece he lacked in the whole puzzle...her whereabouts.

He came closer to her, as if he was about to whisper a secret in her ear. 'And what is it? You are keeping me on tenterhooks, Angeline'.

She smiled half-heartedly. 'It's nothing really important… I just found her engagement ring, the one that was given to her by the Viscount, by chance. That helped me put two and two together and confirmed me that there's some truth to those rumours'.

All that seemed to amuse him greatly. She seemed to be as clever as he was.

'You are right. They are not rumours. And now I'll tell you about my little idea...', he came even closer. 'Don't you think that dead the dog, perhaps there'll be no rabies?', he lowered the tone of his voice. 'Though I can offer you another possibility... What if I tell you that I know the people who are after her?'.

For the first time, a gleam of pure evil flashed in his eyes as she stared thoughtfully to the front. Could she do that? Kill her or deliver her to those people in exchange for her own happiness?

One side of her screamed that she couldn't do such a thing to Erik. In spite of everything, she still loved him and respect him too much to commit that final betrayal. On the other side...

Édmond watched the weight of decision darken her face, so he traed to ease her worry. 'You don't have to give an answer right now, you know. Take your time, think about it through and through and...we'll meet again very soon'.

Angie smiled, nodded, and stood up.

'All right, then...See you soon', she started walking but then remembered something. 'Oh', her eyes turned to his coat, which lied neatly folded on his lap, 'how long have you owned it?'

_Yes, she had questions to ask too. _

Confusion reflected on his eyes when the question sank in. Then, he lowered her gaze, following her line of sight. 'Excuse me? Oh! Well, truth is I can't give you a sure answer. My…parents...', he made a pause when he pronounced the word, for he knew they were not really his parents. 'They told me I appeared on their doorstep wrapped in it', he shrugged. 'So I must have grown very fond of it since I was a little boy or something like it...'.

She tried to hide her surprise as much as she could. That could imply that…

_What if she had been talking to a half-brother through all that time? _

She did not insist or add anything else, just walked away, still in shock.

* * *

The heat kept dropping as noon passed by. Still a warm breeze came into Christine's room through the open window, where she was leaning. Her legs were folded and the intense glow of the sun made her dark eyes turn lighter and her spring dress more colourful. 

She would have never thought that she would get to savour life again. She had gone to the Opéra Populaire with the determined idea of not coming back never again, but she had survived...thanks to him.

_Yes, he had managed to save her, make her breathe again. But, at what price? At the price of being forced to watch him avoid and treat her with arrogance and ice-cold indifference? _

And, to top it all, she was voiceless and she had no clue as to know if that would be a temporal situation or if she would remain mute forever...

_A lifetime without voice, without being able to…_

_Sing. Or speak. _

She had learnt something in all the time she had spent next to him, and that had been enhancing her passion for music. Now she would probably spend the rest of her days without songs and without his lessons. The mere thought of it made her shiver.

She hid her head between her knees. Frustration was reaching a limit in which she could not stand it anymore. She thought of Angie and… realizad that she could not blame the girl for anything. It had been ten months, too long for him. It was only normal that she would see through Erik and be charmed by the same things she had fallen in love with, even though she had never wanted to admit it. Perhaps Angie had been clever enough to not let him go, unlike her.

_But that would mean she had finally lost him. _

The beautiful sound of a piano took her gently out of her reverie and inner conflicts, making her tilt her head towards the sweet notes and smile. Very slowly, her feet came to stand on the floor…

* * *

She came into her apartment, trembling still. She lied on the bed. A bit of rest, she only asked for that. 

_Was it really so difficult having more than two days of peace, happiness and quietness? What had she done to deserve such punishment?_

She covered her face with both hands in defeat and just let time slip.

How hadn't she noticed those little details from the first moment they met? His features had always looked quite familiar to her. They resembled her mother's lover but she had not really considered it a possibility until…until she saw the coat.

_Because that man, that day, had worn that very same coat. _

It was a big surprise and it was not, at the same time, for she knew it was very possible that they had consummated their relationship with the birth of a new child... Édmond?

* * *

He did not know why he had felt the pressing need of playing the piano that afternoon. Perhaps it was the fact that she was back in his life which had pushed him towards his music again. It had been long since he had played that slow, nostalgic, anguished melody on his violin... 

But this tune was so very different from that one. His fingers danced gracefully over the keys, creating the pleasant sound of a harmony composed long ago.

_In times when Christine had become his inspiration, the muse and central icon of his life and music... _

Those were the times before she lied and rejected him so despicably.

He repressed the wave of rage which was beginning to irradiate from inside his body and kept playing, humming with his baritone voice as if he were writing the lyrics to the soft and relaxing rythm of the music.

A soft hand was rested suddently on his shoulder. He was going to stop playing as soon as she felt the gentle touch but found himself turning his head and looking at Christine's sweet smiling face.

_Would he deny music to the person who was watching him with such adoring eyes? _

The slight smile that came out of his lips was the confirmation she needed to know that her visit did not annoy him. For once, he was not being hard on her. For once…they were like they used to be.

Gradually, she came to sit down next to him on the small bench and watched him with the same admiration he always inspired in her. The same fascination she had known as a little girl when she had been introduced to the new world of music.

Then she started listening to his voice again, as she closed her eyes shut. Even though it was barely a low murmur, she had missed immensly the power his voice had over her, enchanting her with its sublime spell. Her hands encircled his arm with all her might and she rested her head on his shoulder.

_She did not want that moment to end. Never. _

'Have you missed music, Christine?'.

He looked at her for a brief moment. There were occassions like that one in which he thought of really leaving all resentment behind. Or at least he was beginning to think about it. He could not keep pretending, treating her like she was a stranger... It was impossible.

She smiled, sighed and gave a slight nod with her head, which was still leaning on his shoulder. This time his voice had not sounded cold...

_Suddenly, the hard slam of the door broke that spell. _


	46. Chapter 46

She rested her body against the wooden door. Her breathin was uneven and her frustration increased by every passing second, as well as her pain... 

_It was clear that she had used up all her strength. _

She had entered his apartment with the initial idea of having a talk with him and maybe… make everything go back to the way it was before through the open exposition of their real feelings for each other, without quarreling for once.

But there was nothing to do. The slightest hope she had brought with her when she decided to cross his threshold faded away with a simple gesture. She saw so much love, so much devotion and tenderness... Things she had never felt when she had been in his company. She would have done everything in her power to be at the receiving end of the adoring look he had given to the woman that was embracing his arm so affectionately and who had lent her head upon his shoulder.

_Christine was perfect, too perfect. So much that her perfection made her perfectly hateful. _

She looked across the room into her mirror, which returned the reflection of a tired woman, on the edge of collapse, desperate for getting back what she thought was hers.

Hers? For God's sake, he had never been hers. From the very beginning, he had always, always, belonged to Her. Still when she disappeared and when they were getting to know each other.

_She had been a fool for thinking that he was beginning to really love her... _

It seemed that Erik, or the Phantom of the Opera, had eyes and heart for one person alone.

In two long strides she was in front of the mirror. Her hair was dishevelled that day, messier because of the blowing wind and a whole day of traipsing around the city.

Her eyes turned to her bedside table, where she had left a pair of scissors she rarely used when she had to mend some clothes or something like it. She held it in her hand, determined.

'I won't give away anymore of my life for you and I swear that from now on I'll abide by that!'

She had made a promise to herself and she would keep it.

The scissors made the first cut to her long hair.

_No more pain for you…_

And another cut made the soft tresses fall lifelessly on the floor.

_No more despair for you… _

A knot had formed in her throat as she tried to keep her tears at bay. Cut.

_No more crying for you…_

She lowered her head for a moment, trying to assimilate the words she had told to herself and wandering whether she would really manage to keep the promise.

A familiar voice reached her ear, accompanied by the sound of the door closing.

'Have you get tired of trying to look like her at last, Angeline?', his tone was rough, ironic and furious.

She faced him. He wanted roughness, he wanted fury. Well, he would have it even if that meant shaterring her soul.

'To my knowledge, I've never given you any kind of permission to break into my apartment whenever you please...'.

A mocking laugh escaped him when he heard her remark. 'I've never needed it. What's more, in more than one occasion I've been very welcome'. He pronounced the last word as if it were an obviously insolent insinuation.

That made her fury burn. He even had the cheek to mention one of their encounters...

She came closer and slapped his left cheek without second thoughts. 'How dare you! I was trying to believe there could be still some respect for me in you', she laughed in his face, practically spitting out every single word. 'For a moment I even thought that you had the most beautiful and precious soul in the whole world', she watched him with real hatred. 'But you've finally got me to despise you so much that all positive thought I might have ever had about you has disappeared'-She was calmer yet the ice-cold sound of her voice remained. 'You have no soul, no heart for anyone except for the person who is the focus of your obsession', she turned away briskly. 'Get out right now, I don't want to see you and this is not your damned Opera Theatre!'.

_He stood unresponsive for a second. His Opera Theatre? Again, she had found out more than she should… Between that and her little violent outburst against him... _

_He would not admit it but those words had touched a fibre in him. _

She had turned her back on him, as she waited for him to abandon her house. However, he made her turn around carelessly.

'Well, well…', his voice was low but so terribly threatening that sent shivers down her spine. 'I see you've discovered the murderer, the cold-blooded monster and the obsessive and unfeeling Opera Ghost, haven't you? You are right, dearest, this is not my Opera Theatre but I thought we were on intimate terms with each other'. He forced her to look into his eyes. 'Besides…Look who's talking about compulsive obsession! A person who curls her hair with the only aim of attracting my attention!', he smiled half-heartedly. 'You don't know anything about love if you see it as a simple physical change!'.

She could not bear it anymore. He was right. He only spoke the truth. Tears collapsed in the corner of her eyes.

'I must not know anything after being beside you for so long!', she shouted at him. 'After being beside you in your weakest moment, without running away in fear when I saw your face unmasked! After…', she finished the sentence with a tinge of resignation. 'After giving everything I had in every one of your kisses and caresses without getting anything in return and yet believing that you might love me!', her voice was despair itself. 'Maybe I don't know love at all, Erik. Maybe you are right'.

He said nothing, just stared at her.

_She was right. If something true had come out of that was that she had been devoted to him entirely...but it was too late for him to take his harsh words back. _

As he did not speak, she returned to her speech before she was interrupted.

'The Angeline you once knew and even kissed and caressed', she paused. 'She will never be the same again. I hate you!', she was crying uncontrollably. 'You mean absolutely nothing to me now…'.

_She had never spoken aloud something so contradictory to what her heart really felt. _

His rage had become something else all of a sudden. For some strange reason, he couldn't bear seeing her so broken. He felt that if he did not put a stop at that she would end up doing something she would regret.

'Angie, listen to me…' he tried to get hold of her hand, which was still clutching the scissors but she recoiled too quick.

'Don't you ever touch me. Your pity and compassion...I don't want them', her reddened eyes locked with his. 'Go away, now!', she hit his chest with a trembling fist. 'For God's sake, don't make this any harder...'.

_She burst out crying again, unconsciously resting her forehead on his chest. _

Erik embraced her and stroke her hair until she calmed down. Then, he carefully removed the scissors from her hand.

They stood like that for an eternity until her sobbing subsided.

* * *

He was a couple of steps away from the residence. Everything seemed to be going in the right direction, or at least that was the impression he'd got, even though he felt uneasy at the girl's reaction to his story. 

_Did she know something else about him than what she had hinted? No, that could not be... He did not recall meeting her until that day. _

_Or was the coat itself which had made her realise something that escaped him? _

It sounded too riddiculous to not take it into account. He was perfectly aware that, as the the coat had belonged to him for all his life, the explanation of his step-parents about its procedence suggested that the coat had been the only gift given to him by his real father before he had been given to that family in adoption.

Still, a new idea, different and upsetting, stung in his mind.

_What did she have to do with him or his family? _

A groan of frustration escaped his throat. Whatever it was that she had guessed, he wouldn't let that suspicions interfere in their happy little chats. He needed them, now more than ever, for he was waiting for an answer to his proposal.

'Well, well, well, Monsieur Édmond...', he recognized Jacques' voice in the middle of the street. 'We were precisely wondering where you were'.

His look met the two people he detested the most… Maurice and his partner.

He kept his composture. 'Gentlemen... I suppose you wanted something from me'.

Maurice half-smiled. 'And when have we ever get together for anything else? And now, if you don't mind, we'd love if you didn't beat the bush for once. You must have interesting news to tell us...'

He frowned. He knew what they were refering to but he prefered to keep his silence for the moment. 'News? I'm afraid you are wrong. I told you that, as soon as I...'.

Jacques went straight to the point. 'So, why were you going to the residence, then?', he smiled. 'We don't miss a single one of your movements. We know you are hidding something that is obviously of great interest to us. Information that's not of the kind one would share with some ladies in a tea party, I'd say'.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, though he managed to disguise it under a mask of coldness. 'The private conversations I might have or not with whoever I want, I think, are none of your business'.

Jacques rushed at him and seized the lapels of his coat with rage.

'I believe you've forgotten that you work FOR us, do you remember?', anger flooded his cold grey glare. 'So I'm afraid I must remind you that it is really of our concern'.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, both trying to supress their own rage, until Édmond pulled away sharply.

'I'll contact you as soon as I find out anything valuable. Until then, I think it's not necessary for us to meet again'.

Harshness was evident in his tone. He did not let them reply but left the place at a quick pace.

* * *

She did not know how long she had been hugging him and how many tears she had shed but she did know that she couldn't have prevented it. The need of being close to him had become overwhelming for her and ;on one side she blamed herself for that. 

_But on the other side…_

That had been like a balm on her fresh wounds, like pouring alcohol to dry them. She sighed again, sinking her head on the pillow.

_At least, there was the fact of knowing he still cared for her well-being and that he had remained next to her in her lowest moment… _

Deep down she felt that it had only been his way of returning an old favour but, even if that was the case, that made her smile and give into sleep.


	47. Chapter 47

**Hello everyone, again :)**

First of all. **Alori Kelsi Aldercy, **Thank you! Your review is awesome and very constructive. I'm so glad you're enjoying it.

**Calibeachbum **Angie is 18 years old, I think it's named somewhere in the first chapters of this story. Edmond is her...half-brother ;) Thanks for reading!

Enjoy chapters 47-49 ;)

Lovephantom83

* * *

Her drowned sobs had subsided progressively as he held her in his arms. In spite of the fact that a few minutes before she had forbidden him to ever touch her again and told him to leave her alone, her hands had grasped the lapels of his waistcoat while she kept crying all those tears. He felt how her body became relaxed in the prelude of dreaming, as well as her breathing slowed down until it reached the normal rythm. Then, he moved away from the embrace, gently lying her on the bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin. 

_You have no soul, no heart …_

Certainly, long ago he would have sworn that that was trae. He had never been concerned about anyone. He had shown no compassion, no pity, no sympathy for anyone before…

_Only coldness and hatred. _

He had killed many people with his own hands, without blinking, without remorse. Yes, he was soulless, heartless. A small smile even found its way upon his lips every time someone fell in his traps, like the insect which gets trapped in a cobweb while the spider watches his helpless prey in the distance.

But, had he ever been taught the difference between right and wrong, any morals or ethics at all? Had he ever received a mother's love or anyone else's affection?

No, in fact he still remembered the first person who hadn't laughed together with the others when he had been given that awful beating by that... odious sweaty materialist abusing and corrupt excuse for a human being.

_The Devil's child. _

What an appropiate nickname for the circus attraction he had become!

_But deep in the eyes of that young girl, which looked without fear or mockery, he found an ally… _

She took him out of that hell when he was barely fifteen. Yes, that girl, who was a grown woman now, was the first person that ever showed him some kindness. At least in her theatre, she assured him, he would never ever be thrashed again.

And yet, he had grown up alone, he became self-taught. He built himself a great home, a palace in homage to creativity, the place where he started developping his art. But in loneliness, days, months and years passed by. He actually began to feel like a real ghost.

It had been Christine who had taught him that good-hearted people really existed, that not everyone was so evil in the world. She showed him that there was some light in his darkness, amongst the candles and compositions. Some light in the nearly barbaric way of life he had known till then. Christine had been the only one, apart from his rescuer whom he still admired, that had made him feel human again. She had known and make him realize that he was more than a myth and a dancing shadow. He even gave away his own happiness for the sake of hers.

_What was it that she could not understand? Didn't she realize that it wasn't an obsession or a fancy, that if he had any feelings or heart at all it was precisely due to her presence in his life? _

Taking a hand to his brow, he tucked a rebellious strand of hair which had escaped during their previous argument.

Just after he opened the door, he saw her. She was sitting in the armchair with a confused and concerned expression that darkened her features.

He faked calmness, in spite of knowing that it would be impossible at the moment. Things were simply crashing on top of him. 'Everything is in order. There's nothing to worry about. I had just to clear something up with the girl, concerning her job, that's all'.

He crossed the living room with the only intention of getting changed into more a more comfortable attire and relax, or work, to keep his mind occupied in something else...but a hand stopped him.

_And her gaze. Was she begging him to tell her the truth? God, he couldn't help that his feelings were rendered transparent before her. _

'I've got some work to do and you must be quite tired. Perhaps we shall continue with our music session some other time…'.

He moved away but heard the sound of a moving chair and the soles of her shoes against the floor, right behind him. She came to where he stood and took one of his hands in hers. She opened her mouth but, frustratingly, she remained mute. Just an almost inaudible and uncomprehensible sound came out of her throat.

The touch of her hand made him turn around. It was all too...too complicated so as to tell her at the moment. Then he noticed that one of his fingers had been unconsciouslly providing her hand feather-like caresses and that, somehow, the rest of his fingers had got entwined with Christine's.

He sighed, looking away briefly, then turning to her again. 'I'm a bit exhausted, that's all…'.

At that, he let go of her hand and went to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

She lowered her head, resigned. She had already seen that small sparkle of sadness before, in that final look he had given her so many months before...

_He was spiritless and confused. And she knew he had not been telling her the truth. _

_Because she had heard perfectly well how Angie had screamed that she hated him._

_

* * *

_The following morning she forced herself to wake up. The memory of what happened the night before still lingered in the air and in her mind, as well as the bittersweet embrace which had comforted her until she had fallen asleep.

She thought of some way of apologizing, of starting all over again. Maybe if they'd had a calmer discussion…

'For God's sake, Édmond!', she nearly laughed at the situation. 'Watch out where you are going, you nearly send all those things flying everywhere!'.

'My apologies...', he laughed. 'It seems that we are both quite in a hurry this morning'. With the fortuitous meeting, he had not noticed sooner that her long hair looked more irrelugar and shorter than usual. 'Dear, some other accident?'.

She realized at once. Her hair, of course. 'Yes…some silly thing, in truth', she lied. 'Don't take that too seriously', she smiled kindly as he led her somewhere quieter.

'In that case I guess I shouldn't worry. I told you already that I wouldn't like to scold you like a baby', he half-smiled. 'Well? I haven't received news from you for some days. Has your situation improved? You left so suddently the last time we met…'.

_That statement left her speechless. Should she tell him? _

She looked away, insecure.

'I know, and I'm sorry. I was…well, I had had a horrible day and I still had some things to do...'.

'Never mind…', he watched her in amusement. 'But I believe you haven't answered my other question'.

Her features turned grave. 'Maybe it's because I don't want to talk too much about it… It's getting harder and harder for me by the day…'.

_He really pitied the poor girl. She seemed terribly hurt and lost to her fate. _

'Come, come…', he pulled her to him. 'Don't you have a long life ahead of you to be going through that hell?'.

She sighed. 'You told me that these things can't be prevented…and now I'm paying for being so naïve!'.

'But you forget what I offered you on a silver plate...'.

_He was right. Delivering Christine… _

'I… I still have to think it over. I am…not sure if that would be correct...'.

'Listen...', he said soothingly. 'You don't have to fear of what might come to you, or the consequences of your decision. I would cover your back so that he wouldn't find out, and you would finally get what you want, wouldn't you? It will be good for you in any case...', he kept going when he saw her thoughtful expression. 'Come to see me in my apartment in a few days', he smiled, took a sheet of paper out of his case and wrote his address on it. 'And then, we'll talk it all out in private and calmly', he squeezed her shoulder. 'I've got to go now, but don't forget our appointment, all right? See you soon, Angeline'.

She nodded and watched him go.

'See you soon, that's right'. Her voice was barely a whisper.

_She observed him from the distance, already knowing who he was. Her own half-brother… but, would she ever gather up the courage to tell him?_

With that last thought, she stood up. She had still something to buy before she returned home...


	48. Chapter 48

She was still sleeping peacefully. Her curls were gloriously spread all over the pillow in a way that made it look like her angelic face was drowning in the soft tresses. 

Erik watched her from the threshold.

He had to apologize to her somehow. He had made his own mistakes too, so a little truce of sorts, a declaration of peace would be the best thing to do. Resentment was useless to him now. Even though she could not show anything with her throat, her voice... it was obvious in her eyes, in the bruises on her wrists and in her attitude that she had gone through a hard time.

But he did not want to push her. He would allow her to tell him herself. He retired slowly, a half-smile gracing his lips. He would have never thought that, someday, he would be doing that again...

* * *

She tied her irregular hair as best as she could. In spite of being careful, some tresses scaped the knot and settled upon her cheeks. 

She was aware that what she was doing was totally crazy, that her objective was a lost cause and that she couldn't go on like that anymore... However, how to control herself?

The only thing she had completely clear was that what she was about to do was her last resort. Her nerves were on edge as she left her bedroom.

* * *

She opened her eyes, sitting bolt upright on the bed and looked at the clock in front of her. It was nearly noon. It was not strange, taking into account that it had been almost impossible to fall asleep the night before. She spent a good few hours tossing and turning between the sheets. She had too many things in which to think about. 

She was suffering, for seeing Erik like that and for herself. She was distressed because he had lied to her, though his intentions were to save her concern. Wasn't it better to tell her the truth openly? Had he lost all trust in her? On the other side, her intuition was like a little inner voice that kept whispering to her that maybe she was better left in the dark, unknowing...

_Was it really better that way?_

Everything between them had become an almost deathly silence but there were lots of things to tell each other at the same time. A little of the magic they had at the beginning still remained when they were together. It was odd and upsetting.

_She could not go on like that. Without being sure about his real feelings, whether he hated her or loved her. If there was anything true about her suspicions regarding his relationship with Angie. If… God, if there was any possibility of winning him back someday. Sometimes it looked like she could, while other times it seemed as if she hadn't the least chance of it._

Her eyes turned glassy for a moment but when she looked away, at her bedside table, she felt her heart skip a beat and then thunder inside her chest. Her gaze lit up immediately.

_A beautiful red rose with a black ribbon rested elegantly on the wooden surface._

She held it but not with tremulous hands as she had done other times before...

Perhaps that rose represented the beginning of their re-acquaintance, of a time in which they would get back to be who they were to each other in the past.

She smiled widely, getting lost in the flowers' perfume.

* * *

At last a practically mystic silence reigned in the house. His head was lowered, slightly tilted to one side, as he observed carefully his work and gave the final touches to his last design. 

Those were the only moments in which nothing else but work became the focus of his attention. That was when he could escape the haunting thoughts and worries… escape Angie…

_But, how longer could he keep that façade, the distance, the silence? _

No. It was absolutely impossible. The truth would have to come out into the light and he felt that he would not stand the weight of all that anymore if he did not spoke to her soon, if he did not tell her once and for all.

In the most brusque way, everything had become a fight for stopping a blinded person overnight…

_As blinded as he himself had been because of the jealousy and the possessiveness, perhaps? _

He stood up, dropping his head backwards. Now he feared facing someone who was too much like him.

What he saw when he moved his head to the normal position did not help him feel better.

Angeline was there, a serene expression on her face and…

Three red roses on her right hand.

He stared, his body tense but keeping the composture. 'I'm surprised at your visit after our last conversation'.

She smiled. What did she want? Why did she suddenly look so calmed again?

'That's exactly why I'm here…', she held out the hand with the roses. 'I was wandering if you'd accept my apologies. You see, perhaps if we talked things over with more tranquillity…'.

He took the roses and looked at them for a moment. 'Thank you, dear, but I can't accept them…'.

Angie frowned, taken aback and saddened at the same time. 'It's only a gift, Erik...', her tone was apathetic.

He left the roses aside and glared. 'It's a nice gesture but I can't accept it. Besides, I thought you had already spoken your mind last night regarding myself...', the bitterness in his voice stressed his point. 'Furthermore, roses don't bring me exactly wonderful memories either...'. He had turned his back on her by then.

She tried to catch hold of one of his arms, to calm him down, convince him to talk to her. 'I understand... what you mean but please, I just want to talk to you...'.

He removed her hand agressively, as he threw the roses to the floor in one wave of his arm. He turned to her, his face just a few inches from hers.

'You don't understand it yet, don't you?', his tone dropped lower but it was high enough to be heard. 'Angeline, _these_ are my feelings and you _cannot_ do anything to change them', he pushed her away but she was still too close to him. 'You cannot change that I love her!'.

And just as she had stated her revelation, he had ended up signing his own confession.

_That last sentence brought silence again to the living-room. And froze Angie's heart. _


	49. Chapter 49

_You cannot change that I love her!_

She closed her eyes. She could hear, little by little, her heart finally cracking...

She had promised to herself that she would not shed another tear. That she wouldn't show weakness before him again.

_But, how not to do so? What little remained of her within herself had been blown away. Everything was lost...everything. _

Slowly, she opened them. Shock was obvious in her gaze, which was still glued to his.

She sighed, breathed in, relaxed her shoulders so that it wouldn't look like her walls were crushing down. Not this time.

'Right…'.

_The word was barely audible, almost drowned by a sob. _

But she manager to stand tall, strong and determined against the tempest...

Or at least pretending she was.

Not even a single word escaped her lips again, not a sound. She reached the doorframe of Christine's bedroom and clinged to it, lowering her head.

_Even breathing had become harder… _

She was not prepared for what she found there when she gathered enough strength to sustain her body

The other woman was looking intensely at the red rose she was holding in her hands. She wore such a cheerful expression on her face that she wouldn't have been able to conceal it, even if she had tried. When she lifted her eyes and saw Angie's contorted face, her own expression changed. Her radiant eyes turned softer and kinder, questioning if she was okay.

_So much sweetness, so much gentleness, so much perfection... _

_Blood was really starting to boil in her veins. _

_Why did he still love her? What was the sense of it after all the pain she had brought to him? _

She couldn't care less for the answer now…

She regained her composure and came into the room. 'It's nothing, I'm fine… Mademoiselle Daaé'. Christine was taken back by the sudden use of her maiden name. 'Dizziness is very normal for me, I get that a lot. When you are ready…'.

She retired, feigning that she was all right and that absolutely nothing had happened before. It was better that way, so to have the lovely soprano convinced of their good relationship. She'd have to believe she was on her part… at least until her moment would come, of course.

Erik had not moved an inch. He was still standing up, his hand grasping the chair and his eyes fixed on the spot her presence had filled moments before.

_He knew how much she had been affected by his words. The way she had shut her eyes, the glare in them when she forced them open and the eerie calmness in her attitude when she abandoned the living-room..._

_He had only been honest for once! _

His fist was closed tight and his breathing uneven as he tried to restrain the tension that had grown inside him in a moment. He heard steps nearby. Angie was again in front of him.

There was something new in her blue eyes. Serenity, disappointment?

It wasn't any of that but hatred.

She seemed the one not showing any emotion on her face now. 'So…I suppose, Erik, that the only thing that remains unspoken between us is my sincere wish that you enjoy her presence in this house for as long as you can', she began walking towards the entrance door. 'Future is treacherous, my friend'.

He frowned. Her apparent cold calm seemed too strange in her… 'What do you mean?'.

She gave him a wicked smile, closing the door behind her, leaving his question on the air.

_Without giving him a proper explanation._

He turned on his heels, and he threw a chair to the floor in an outburst of rage. His action caused a great noise in the middle of such a deep silence

_What was she trying to do now? She had become unpredictable... and the worst of all was that her eyes did not reflect nothing but loathe. In fact, what he feared now was...what that irrational loathe would push her to do._

He looked to his side...

Christine was there, astonishment obvious on her innocent features.

He closed his eyes briefly and tried to slow down his breathing. 'I can't explain… Please, not now'.

He walked pass her, squeezing her arm reassuringly and giving her a quick look before he came into his study.

There she stood still, assimilating everything that had just transpired in that room.

_What had gone through his mind? She had rarely seen Erik like that. And she did not understand. He had told her that he did not want to explain things to her at the moment. However, she felt that she could not bear that secrecy, the hidden facts, anymore. She needed to know what was going on with the two of them that was tormenting him so badly and that he kept trying to put off telling her. _

_She needed to know what caused the fear in his green eyes... _

_Fear of what or who..._

She sighed, putting the chair back in its place and sitting down on it. Perhaps if she had her voice back, she could shed her doubts.

* * *

His hands were holding the cup of warm coffee as his uneasy glance darted from the cup to the clock between sips. Two days, he had told her. And for the moment she had not given signs of life. She had not come to his apartment but he had not met her in the streets either. 

He was aware that he was taking too many risks with that plan. He has even had to face the two gentlemen that were, in theory, his collaborators.

_But the problem was that they were not after the same things. _

More than once he had been assaulted by disturbing thoughts that implied that, deep down, he did not want to kill her.

What made him think that? He knew the answer…

He had feelings for her. There was something quite unnerving that made him want to protect her, to keep her from any harm.

_Perhaps it was the same something that came over Raoul? _

* * *

She was mad. Maybe it was jealousy, for the way Erik had treated her as of late. 

Or maybe it was because all was clear to her now. He had admitted that he loved another, and she had nothing to loose anymore. What did it matter if she betrayed his trust now? No... The love she had felt for him was dead.

_She was not the innocent lovesick girl that dreamed of meeting him every second of every day. _

Unfortunately, she was not that girl anymore. And a part of her felt sorry for having to take such measures.

She lowered her head and lifted again when her slender finger rang the bell.

She had made her decision.


	50. Chapter 50

Hello all again :)

I want to thank the new reviewer! Glad to know you're enjoying missing.

As for Christine, **darklady**, I guess you'll just have to go on reading:p

Hugs, and enjoy chapters 50-51

Lovephantom83

* * *

She had been guided to that place by her instinct. She just had. A knot was forming in the pit of her stomach… 

_Now it was too late to come back. _

The sound of the door opening distracted her.

Édmond smiled, inviting her to come inside. 'I'm glad you finally decided to pay me a visit, dear. I was already getting worried about you, as I haven't seen you around lately'.

She nodded as she crossed the threshold, although her gaze lingered for a moment in the hallway, darting from the outside world to the apartment indoors. God, she could not allow herself to hesitate now…

'I know. I…I have been very confused. I did not know what to do concerning...all of this'.

'I understand...but I reckon we'd rather talk about this more comfortably if we were sitting down, don't you think?'.

They took a seat in the living-room. Angie watched the apartment's décor with curiosity. It was not only that they were in a fine area of the city but the house itself looked grand.

A small laugh escaped his lips when he noticed her amazed expression. 'This is the result of much effort and hard work. Don't believe it's been easy to get me this life…'.

_She gave him a sceptic half-smile. What was he talking about? He was always dressed in impeccable clothing. There was no doubt that he had a profitable job and a perfectly organized life. At least their mother had had the decency of leaving him with a good family that would protect him. _

'I assure you that it must have been easier than to be abandoned in the streets and live in hiding, poor and alone, since you were ten'

Sorrow and pity for the girl darkened his expression. Knowing that your parents had given you away to another family before disappearing was hard enough but that other thing...

'I'm sorry to hear that, believe me, I'm telling you in all sincerity', he rested a hand on hers. 'But you have a job now and even a place to live'.

It was impossible to describe the sound that came out of the girl's throat...

_It was neither a sigh nor a supressed sob. _

_It was as if she felt like screaming but lacked the voice. _

'This is not the topic I would want to discuss with you, please…'. Her eyes reflected on the plea she had just stated.

_Why had it been so difficult for her giving another answer? She was transparent, carrying her heart on her sleeves but still kept a pinch of the pride and rebelliousness that characterized her. Those feelings she could not conceal…came now freely in waves out of her eyes and lips... _

'Okay', he eyed her sympathetically, realizing that it had been quite hard for her coming there. 'So…have you thought of what we discussed last time?'.

She lowered her eyes for a moment. She was shivering and anxiety was beginning to give her away little by little.

_His hands did not caress her skin anymore but lovingly idolized Hers. _

_Those lips she had once believed were hers to devour eagerly, now dreamt of another's skin. _

_That was more, far more, of what she was prepared to watch and handle.._

She looked him in the eyes. Her gaze had turned a darker shade because of the rage she was trying to conceal, but in the end she nodded. 'I give you my word, Édmond. I'll help you out'.

As she finished the sentence she held out a piece of written paper.

_The rythm of her breathing quickened. So that was what Judas must have been feeling…_

_

* * *

_The shadows projected by that misty day had fallen on the dark thoughtful figure that was sitting in a corner of the room.

_Wrapped up in shadows and darkness, as he had been destined to be since he was born. _

There was something in what she had told him before she left, in her last sentence... that made fear grow inside him. Maybe because he felt vulnerable for the first time in his life...

He could not face a person that was so psychologically similar to him. The mere thought sent shivers down his spine…

_And it was precisely because of what he knew that, when she really faced the truth, nothing good would come out of her apparently calm frame of mind. _

He was aware that Christine would be involved in whatever plans she had in store for him...

No, he would not allow anyone to hurt her. If there was something he had always done was protect her.

All of a sudden, he noticed the two pale hands, that had barely been touching his leg, ascending up to where his own hands were, palms facing down against his knees. The smaller hands tried to cover his.

He lifted his gaze to the front.

Christine was crouching down in front of him. Her eyes looked glassy.

_She needed to know now. Living in ignorance for so long would do her no good either. There were so many things going on around her, right under her nose, that she couldn't let go another day without finding out the truth. _

Erik inhaled a long deep breath of air, almost crashing down when he saw and felt her painful despair. He looked down, for he could not stand looking in those sad yet demanding eyes of hers anymore.

'I can only hope you understand…', his eyes locked with hers again. 'There's something regarding Angeline that concerns us both, and I…I must figure that out', he stood up and, this time, it was him who took hold of her hands. 'That's why I was debating whether or not to go search the answers I need right now'.

She stopped dead in her tracks, small tears coming out of the corner of her eyes. What was he thinking of doing? What high risks was he trying to avoid? Even if he insisted in leaving her out, she had noticed from the moment she arrived in that house how emotionally unsteady that girl really was...

_It frightened her… and, on the other side, she felt that she did not deserve that he would put anything else at stake for her sake. Not after everything she had put him through... _

It was in that very moment, when his finger traced the moist match of a lonely tear down her cheek when she knew for certain...

He would not risk anything. She had seen that expression in his eyes before.

He was determined to fight for her. And that, being who he was, would not be nothing good for Angie.

She let go of his hands so that he could put on his cloack and leave the apartment.

* * *

He had finally made it… At last, he had the exact location of Christine Daaé's whereabouts in his power. 

'Great...', he smiled in satisfaction. 'You know that you must not worry about anything. There's nothing to fear, dear. Just... I have only one more question for you'.

_Really? Could she really be certain that there was nothing to fear? No, he was wrong. She had too much to fear, such as looking into Erik's eyes again after that. _

She nodded in resignation. 'Anything…just ask'.

'Calm down, Angie, the worst has passed, hasn't it?', he smiled half-heartedly. 'Anyway, I just need to know… is there anyone in charge of her, some protector of sorts? Someone that might interfere in our plans?'.

_No…No, please. Anything but delivering his head on a silver plate. _

She closed her eyes briefly. She prayed that a simple reply would suffice. 'Yes…', the tone of her voice was low, almost a whisper, as if she wouldn't want to tell him at all.

His demand came out slowly, reassuringly. 'His name?'.

Good Heavens, no… She did not want any of this… She did not want to be forced to…

'It's…Erik'.

The word sounded more like a cry of pain than a name. Her eyes were drowning in tears and her whole body was shaking...

_All doubt was cleared for him. That man was the person she had fallen in love with._

* * *

She was not at her place. 

He looked around, frustrated.

Well, she wasn't at home, but he had already something in mind for her.

And this time she would not get out before he knew absolutely everything, whatever it was she was up to. He had got tired of daintiness…


	51. Chapter 51

She closed the door behind her, dropped her head backwards against the wooden surface and breathed in hard. 

_She could not believe what she had just done…_

_Good Lord, everything had made her... unstable. _

_Possessed by madness. _

She had got out of his apartment as soon as posible. Before hear heart filled with regret and she could turn back her steps.

Tears were clouding her eyes and she was soaking wet because of the rain that had started falling as soon as she left Édmond's house. She looked at her bed.

A lone white rose rested upon the bedspread.

She came closer and held it carefully. She did not have to guess who had given her such a gift.

She felt a sharp pain going through her finger and a few drops of blood escaping a tiny wound that had opened on her fingertip...

_He had not removed the thorns. _

She began feeling like she was suffocating.

Her racked sobs filled the bedroom.

_Why should he make everything harder than it already was? _

'Swallow those tears. They won't help you now...', he sent a mordant look in her diretion. 'I'd have knocked for the sake of the etiquette you dictate and which you say I lack of, but the door was wide open when I arrived'.

She lifted her tearful gaze.

No. Goddamned, no. She had to face him now...of all the people she knew...  
'Erik…'.

* * *

Christine heard the door shutting in the apartment right above Erik's. She knew it was hers. 

_If he did not tell her…_

She opened the door quietly and began climbing the stairs until a few steps separated her from Angie's apartment door.

* * *

'Please…', she was still drowning in her own crying, her eyes begging him to go away. For the first time, she felt meaningless and tiny next to him 

_This time he knew kindness and gentleness would not be enought to make her reason and come back to her senses. _

He brusquely pulled her from the bed, where she had taken a seat when her knees had nearly buckled beneath her. Erik's strength was no match to hers, so the pressure in her arms became really painful. Then, he hurled her to the front wall. Their bodies were suddenly too close of each other, just like that very first encounter they had shared.

'Did you really think that I would not be clever enough, hm?'. His voice sounded hoarse, angrier than ever. 'It hasn't taken long to figure out that jealousy has finally taken its toll on you. They have defeated you at last…Even when I told you the damned truth you still wouldn't accept it and move on!'. His lips hovered near her ear. 'I recognize a calculating, cold-blooded person when I see one, dear, and I know that you must have some little plan spinning around in your head', he moved away but just enough so that she would still feel intimidated. 'Tell me right now!'.

In turn, she just looked at her side, trying to avoid his eyes at all costs.

_She could not tell him! It was…so difficult. So difficult being torn between revenge and love! _

She could make out the sound of a piece of furniture being moved, his determined steps…

And specially the discussion they were holding at the moment. The last words had come from his throat like a growl...

She rested her hands on the wall in distress, nearer and nearer of the doorknob.

Angeline tried to free herself from his graps, pushing hard with her arms and tossing between his stronger ones...

It was impossible. A pair of muscular and enraged arms could never be defeated by ones that were already too weak and tired of fighting.

He noticed her attempts of getting away from him very soon. He pushed his body forward, trapping her tighter against the wall, as purple bruises formed in both her wrists. A small groan came out of her.

'You are hurting me...', she barely had strength to pronounce those words.

She could feel his uneven breathing close to her skin.

And the furious sound he emitted was like a thunder that shook all her body to the core.

He forced her to look directly into his eyes. 'Quoting yourself, I'm just a feelingless being! So, whether I hurt you or not must be inconsequential to me, don't you think?'. He almost smiled. 'Why would I want to ruin that hard-won reputation now?'. He let go of her hands as if they burnt him but still keeping little distance between them. 'I got tired of our silly little games long ago. So…', he seemed more calmed now. 'Speak quickly before I loose all patience with you'.

_She had never seen him like that… He was… savage. So savage that she was fearing for her life. _

However, his calmer demeanour helped her ease her worry too…

They both could hear each other's breathing, slower now but still labored. Erik stood haughtily and in silence, waiting for her reply, with fury glowing deep in his eyes.

_She simply could not tell him… Her body shivered under his dark presence. _

Christine sharpened her ear, aghast. She felt that her own breathing was coming in and out in gasps like theirs.

_It was time to stop all that. _

Slowly, very slowly, her hand began turning the doorknob...

Her hand shot to the nape of his neck and she pressed her mouth to his in a hard kiss, just like that. Her eyes had been pouring waterfalls of fresh tears since the moment she had abandoned that apartment where she had signed the ultimate act of vengeance like the betrayer she had pretended to be. But she couldn't go on.

_Once more, she only wanted to enjoy the caress of his lips upon hers, before whatever punishment her fate had in store for her. _

_She prayed for him to at least understand that she loved him still. That she had always loved him, in spite of what was about to happen… _

Her hands slid instinctively down his neck, though his remained deathly still. He was frowning, looking for the way to break her kiss but not really knowing how.

The door opened…

_No… She might have convenced him… Oh, Lord. She was kissing him with such an ardent passion. So hard. And he looked as if he were responding, though not so enthusiastically. _

She started walking backwards, slowly… She lost control of her pain and sobs racked her frame… She managed to hide in the shadows offered by the corner of the room.

It was then when Angie moved away, as, little by little, her fingers strocked his nape and trailed down his cheek.

'I cannot!'.

She bursted out crying hard again and his amazement allowed her to break free from his arms and run away, not giving a single glance back.

_Without second thoughts, he ran after her… _

He reached the street but it was already too late.

Even with the rain, he was sure that her lithe form would probably help her gain much advantage over him in a short time.

'Angeline!'.

He felt water soak his hair and clothes. He came inside again, feeling utterly frustrated.

What he found in her apartment did nothing to improve his mood.

Christine was staring at him from the middle of the room. Her eyes reddenned, her breathing ragged and a sceptic look matched the pained frown she exhibited.

_It was impossible that… _

Her lower-lip was quivering but, though he tried, he couldn't have come closer to her for she fleed as soon as he made his first move..

He closed his eyes shut.

It was obvious to him now that she had watched the whole exchange

_Perhaps if he had explained things to her since the first moment.. or if Angie had made things easier..._

He sat down on the bed, furious. Things had slipped out of his hands…

A sigh of exhaustion came out of his lips as he accidentally eyed a piece of paper which was lying on the floor.

He stretched his hand to take it. There was an address written on it and a name. It had probably and inadvertently fallen from the girl's pocket.

Definitely, that was all the proof he needed to confirm his suspicions.

He looked around and put the piece of paper in one of the small pockets of his wet jacket. Then, he left the apartment.

* * *

'My dear comrade Édmond…', Jacques gave him a half-smile. 'After our last encounter we lost all faith of ever seeing you around...'. 

'Oh, please, I beg your pardon for my little impertinence', he eyed his two collaborators, who had come accompanied by Marie and Emma. 'But, as promised, I've brought some news... Precisely what all of us have been wishing for'.

His audience observed him in anticipation, waiting for him to continue his exposition.

_He just loved having them eat out of the palm of his hand. _

His lips curved into a triumphant smile, taking a little piece of paper out of his pocket. 'Here it is the address of Christine's hiding place…'. He lifted a hand, beating to Jacques and Maurice's impatient attitude. 'Not that fast, my friend. If we want this to come out well, we must draw a plan and organize ourselves better this time…', he made a pause. 'And you must abide to my rules, of course'.

Maurice frowned. 'What do you mean, boy?'.

'Tomorrow at noon. I'll tell you then… and…I'll bring my confidante with me'.

With a slight nod of his head, he retired, taking his umbrella in his hand as he passed the hallway. Once he was outside, he opened it so that he could protect himself from the rainwater.

* * *

She had seen him walk past not too far from the place she was hiding in. She had managed to take shelter from the rain in a dark and narrow alley between two large buildings. 

_She could come out of her hiding place and approach him, tell him that she had second thoughts and prefered to let things unchanged_

_No, not yet. It would be too soon. After all, she had given him her word too. _

She closed her eyes, feeling the cold drench her skin and chill her bones.

He had come after her and then returned home. She would not be able to see him again in another day at the least. She knew she was acting like a coward but it was what her instinct had told her to do.

She had clearly heard him cry out her name in the distance.

He had not understood that her last sentence had been pronounced in frustration not because she did not want to tell him the truth…but because she just could not bring herself to betray the person she had loved, and, fortunately or unfortunately, still loved the most.

_Yes…A damned coward…that was her. _

She regained her composture somehow, came out of the alley and began her walk back home.


	52. Chapter 52

**Hello everyone again :)**

**Sorry I haven't been around, but finally I've been able to update! As always, I'd like to thanks everyone.**

**Now, enjoy chapter 52! **

**Lovephantom83**

* * *

She had shut the door hard behind her, sitting on the floor as she tried to wipe the tears that were rolling down her face. 

_There was no way to make that kiss abandon her thoughts now. _

She cried. And it was not because of what might have seem the most obvious reason: seeing another woman kissing him. No, surprisingly enough, jealousy had taken over her but it was not because of that.

Angeline had managed to express such passion with the simple gesture of a kiss… It was all so terribly evident that it made her furious. So furious because she hadn't been able to express so that fateful evening.

_Yes, she had kissed him. Shyly the first time. The second time she took more time. She allowed herself to get lost in the taste of his lips mixed with the salt of his tears, as her trembling hands held his face and she provided slight caresses to his cheek, which had been uncovered at the moment. _

_His tears, which were only and exclusively shed for her… _

_And she had paid him running away as soon as she heard his defeated, enraged and exhausted voice asking for her to leave. _

A kind of self-hatred for being so…childish invaded her, making her give a sharp punch to the floor.

_Perhaps all that meant that her destiny was not entwined with his, after all... Perhaps Angie was more deserving of his love…_

_A love she seemed eager to show so very openly. Anytime. Anywhere. _

_Why couldn't she have done the same! _

She took both her hands to her face, letting out the feelings her throat would not allow her to express with words. With drowned sobs, her silent tears began trailing down her porcelain cheeks.

Erik chose that moment to open the door, without really knowing if he would be able to resist the urge of crashing down like her, pull her to him and embrace her forever. She was curled up on the carpet which covered the floor. He could sense her small form shiver, following the rythm of the sobs that racked through her.

_Miserable… that state of permanent angst had been caused by no other than himself. _

Trying not to disturb her, he crouched down on the floor so that he was more or less at her level. Christine lifted her face when she noticed the gentle touch of his hand on her back.

Her eyes were sad, tremendously sad, as much as his own or even more.

_Was he so anguished? No, he had no reason to be like that. It was not his fault. _

'_Christine…', his voice was soft as he pulled her up to stand and held her arms. 'I realize I must explain so much to you. Maybe…'. _

He was interrupted by a shake of her head. Then, she leant one of her hands on his shoulder, just as her head instinctivelly did a similar motion, letting its weight slightly rest on him.

_There was so much quietness, so much safety… so much peace in his presence. In his arms. _

_And yet, she could not tell him. And she feared that she could never do. How much longer could she stand the silence, watching how she lost him at last? _

Erik understood the meaning of that gesture. She had always told him more things in that way than with words. She did not need explanations or she did not want them. He knew she was trying to make him see that it was not his fault but he could not help feeling like that. He could not bear hurting her.

Slowly, she moved away and her lips curled in a reassuring smile. She wanted him to know they would be all right.

But he knew things would not be so easy. Resigned, he walked towards her, took her face in his hand and kissed her brow. Perhaps it was best to leave her alone for a while. After stroking briefly her cheek, he retired.

Christine smiled inwardly. With a simple gesture, he had made her feel much better.

* * *

The new day brought other expectations but did not change her mood in the slightest. She did not dare to see him again, to speak to him…anything. 

With a sigh, she rested her bare feet on the wooden floor. She was aware that the moment when she had to face him was closer by the minute.

_She could not let her nerves betray her again… _

She used what little strength she had left to make her legs support the weight of her weak body so that she could get changed.

Twenty minutes later she found herself in the main square. She did not have to wait too long for Édmond to put an appearance.

'I'm glad to see you, Angeline', he smiled and offered his arm. 'Precisely, I trusted that I would meet you today, for I'd like you to accompany me to a place in a while...'.

She did not understand why but a knot had formed deep in her throat when she heard him say that.

_What if she told him then? Would it be too late?_

A worried expression, tormented, crossed her features. 'Listen, Édmond…I…I've got something to tell you, please…'.

He looked at her in concern that emotion shifted quickly. He kept biting his lower lip, though. 'You know I'd love to hear that, dear, but you see...this is serious business we must attend and there's not much time to spare. It has to do with our...plans'.

_Plans… Good Heavens. She was really sinking fast in dangerous waters, and she did not know if..._

'Our plans', she nodded nervously. 'Is it that…you are thinking of going into action so soon?'.

He laughed aloud, trying to calm her down. 'Not right away but very soon. You…you must promise me that you'll be calm when this starts, okay? I'm just going to introduce you to some people, nothing more'.

'Who will these people be?'. Fear was obvious in her quivering voice.

'My colleagues. They are really looking forward to meeting you'.

_She gulped hard. _

_She was scared, scared staff. And he hadn't allowed her to tell him what she had come to..._

That she simply could not carry on with the plan.


End file.
